


wake from death (and return to life)

by Sarcasticles



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Kuina Lives, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:40:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 50,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22564141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarcasticles/pseuds/Sarcasticles
Summary: Zoro had always been told that Kuina died falling down the stairs. But she didn’t fall, and she wasn’t dead.
Comments: 51
Kudos: 102





	1. A Twist of Fate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [codedredalert](https://archiveofourown.org/users/codedredalert/gifts).



Kuina returned from her duel with Zoro hot, sweaty, and elated. She felt...settled. Sure of herself in a way she hadn’t been in months. With one hand wrapped firmly around Wado’s white sheath and the other clutching at the front of her shirt, Kuina felt the beat of her heart, slow and steady, for once able to ignore the small, obnoxious lumps that were her developing breasts. 

Her dream wasn’t gone. It wasn’t out of reach or stupid. It didn’t matter if she was a girl; she could still be the best swordsman in the world. 

Kuina repeated that thought like it were a prayer, hardening the fragile, tenuous thing that was her resolve until she mostly believed it. In the heat of the moment it was easy for Zoro’s words to drive out everything her father ever told her, but without his brash, almost senseless tenacity shouting in her ear the doubts came creeping back. Hovering in the recesses of her mind like a persistent fly, ready to poison her budding hope before it ever had a chance to take root.

Preoccupied with her thoughts, Kuina didn’t notice the intruder until it was too late. A shadow of a hand clasped itself around her mouth just as she was about to descend the stairs that led to Wado’s proper resting place, muffling her scream while another batted her sword out of her grasp. The sound of it clattering across the ground was amplified by the shattering of peace surrounding her father’s estate. 

Kuina writhed against the hold, for a moment forgetting everything she’d been taught in favor of animalistic struggle. The attacker cursed as she managed to bite the hand that held her. It was enough of a distraction for Kuina to smash her heel against the instep of his foot. His hold loosened enough for Kuina to wiggle free, and she immediately darted for her sword. 

Her attacker was quicker. _Impossibly quick_. Kuina barely saw him move as he snatched Wado off the ground, unsheathing its blade in a single, smooth motion. A beam of moonlight framed a tall, lanky frame, cords of hard muscle straining against tight-fitting black clothes.

“Who are you?” Kuina demanded. She’d thought at first it was one of her father’s students foolishly trying to steal Wado Ichimonji, but she had never seen this man before in her life. Not in the countless duels she’d fought, not when walking around the village, not even at the harbor during those rare days she watched ships come in and out of port. 

“You don’t need to know that, little girl,” the man said. He held Wado up to the light, and when he spoke, Kuina could hear his smile. “What a magnificent blade. It’s a shame it’s wasted in this country backwater.”

“It’s _mine_ ,” Kuina hissed. “Give it back.”

The man chuckled. “Don’t you worry, girl. I’ll make sure to return it to its proper place.”

Kuina moved on instinct, reacting to his subtle change in posture, the shift of his feet and the movement in his hips before her conscious mind realized he was about to attack. But he was so damn _fast_. Faster than any of the adults she’d ever fought before, faster than Kuina ever thought possible, and she wasn’t able to dodge in time. 

Instead of her neck, Wado Ichimonji bit into the flesh above Kuina’s clavicle. Time seemed to stop, forever freezing in her mind the man’s breathy laugh as her own sword traced a path of bloody violence from collarbone to hip. Dark blood bloomed from the cut, almost black under the bleached light of the moon. 

Kuina fell. Her head cracked against the stairwell, sending a blinding pain through the back of her skull that was somehow worse than the deep gouge across her chest. She didn’t remember tumbling down the stairs, but when she looked up again she was laying flat on her back, the familiar ceiling of the dojo above her. From the corner of her flickering vision she could see Wado’s display stand, mocking her by its closeness. 

Blood bubbled in Kuina’s throat as she gasped for air. She felt very little as her vision swam and pitched, and the small part of her mind that was still functioning couldn't decide whether or not that was a bad thing. Every heartbeat forced more of her lifeblood through her wound, which by sheer, dumb luck hadn’t gone deep enough to kill her. 

The man took his time sauntering down the staircase. Kuina flinched as his shadow hovered over her vision, flinched again as he tossed Wado to the ground next to her. 

“I saw your duel with the little green-haired boy. You’re quite good,” he said, almost conversationally. “It’s a shame you’ll never have a chance to hone that talent, I would have liked to see it fully bloomed. But,” he shrugged a little, as if he were discussing a vague annoyance rather than the fact _he was trying to kill her,_ “you only have your father to blame. Tell him, if you live long enough, that this is what happens when you do business with the Revolution. And if you don’t…” He laughed again, a cruel, cold laugh that pierced deeper than any blade. 

“Well, I think he’ll get the picture.”   


* * *

Her father found her there, lying in a pool of her own blood and a death grip around Wado’s hilt. Kuina remembered very little of what happened after that, and woke an indeterminate time later in a haze of pain and confusion. She heard people talking, but they sounded distant, like her ears had been stuffed full of cotton. Any attempts to move were unsuccessful. Kuina couldn’t even open her eyes. 

Her pulse hammered against the back of her skull while the entirety of her torso felt like it was on fire. More distantly, her stomach had decided now was the best time to revolt against the rest of her body. Dull, persistent nausea came in waves, growing in intensity like the tide pulled by a full moon. Kuina felt her insides fold in on themselves, a belly full of blood and chyme forcibly purged from her system. 

“Someone turn her head! Don’t let her choke on it!”

Sudden motion caused pain to explode in her head. It was too much for Kuina to bear, and she let the blackness overtake her once more.   


* * *

Awareness came slowly. For a long time Kuina felt herself hanging on a precipice, and knew somewhere deep inside that if she allowed herself to fall down it she would never come out again. Even so, it took every ounce of her will to inch away from the void, away from the oblivion that called her like a siren’s song. 

There would be no more pain. No more agony of being born a girl in a world that catered itself to men. There would only be rest, and at that moment Kuina was so desperately tired. 

_I’m going to be the world’s greatest swordsman!_

Wado Ichimonji weighed heavily in her hands, anchoring Kuina to the promise she made. To Zoro, to herself. 

To the world. 

Kuina woke. Every breath was agony, the simple action of expanding her ribs enough to draw in air almost too much for her to stand. The ache in her head was far more manageable in comparison, so she focused on that instead. 

It took considerable effort for Kuina to open her eyes. The lashes were crusted over and heavy, but after several attempts she was able to pry them open to assess her surroundings. The room was dark, with its only curtain drawn and a single candle flickering in the corner. As far as Kuina could tell, she was alone. 

But how had she gotten here? And why was she in so much pain? She scrambled for memories, but it was like trying to grab sand; the harder she tried to hold on the more slipped through her fingers. Kuina remembered agreeing to duel Zoro, thought she remembered the clash of live steel. 

Had Zoro finally surpassed her? Had Kuina _lost_? The very idea offended her, despite how many times her father insisted that he was destined to become the better swordsman. 

No, Kuina hadn’t lost. She was as sure of that as she was of her own name. An accident, then? She remembered standing at the top of the stairs after winning...and making her promise, Kuina’s mind unhelpfully supplied her...but she hadn’t been holding Wado when her head cracked against the hard, unforgiving ground. 

Kuina jerked upright. Or attempted to, at least. She only managed to sit up forty-five degrees before a sharp, blinding pain across her abdomen forced her flat once more. Sparks danced across Kuina’s vision, but she hardly noticed as her breath hitched in her throat. She’d been attacked. A man had come at her with a sword. Not just any sword, _Wado_ …

“Be still,” a voice said soothingly. “You’ll open your wounds.”

Kuina tried to say something, perhaps warn the voice that there was an intruder, but all that came out was a garbled moan. 

Strong arms reached behind Kuina’s head, bracing her shoulders and helping her sit up. Kuina _sobbed_ with pain as a glass was pressed against her lips. 

“Drink,” he commanded. 

Kuina managed only a few small swallows before she began to sputter and choke. With a resigned sigh, the man allowed her to lay back down. Kuina’s abdominal muscles thanked him for the kindness, but her mouth cursed him in every language she knew. 

“Language, Kuina.”

“Dad…?”

Blinking bleary eyes, Kuina looked up at her father’s face. He was weary and wan, the creases around his mouth deeper than she remembered. He found a washcloth and wetted it, wiping the excess water from her mouth and the crusts from her eyes. 

“I’m here,” he said thickly. “Kuina, I’m here.”

And then, for the first time in her life, he buried his head in his hands and wept.

Kuina was stunned speechless. She had never seen her father cry, let alone collapse with emotion like he was now. She didn’t understand, and couldn’t even move to comfort him. She was as weak as a newborn kitten, more powerless than she’d ever been before in her life. 

Fear crept through the fog of pain and confusion, an icy finger tracing down her spine and making her shudder. Kuina laid her head back on her pillow, staring at the rafters so she didn’t have to look at her father. The cruel laugh of her attacker echoed in her mind. 

“Dad, you have to hurry,” Kuina rasped. “Someone came to the dojo, they might still be here! You have to find them!”

Her father lifted his head from his hands, a broken man. “It’s too late. By the time I found you...it was too late.”

“But he knows who I am,” Kuina insisted. “He knows who Zoro is.”

Gods above, he’d seen her fight with Zoro. Kuina’s stomach shriveled with horror. If she wasn’t able to defend herself, what chance did Zoro have? Her attacker watched their entire fight without being noticed by either of them, had apparently been able to sneak into the dojo and out again without being seen. 

“He said this is what happens when you deal with the Revolution. What did he mean?” Kuina asked. “You wouldn’t help out a bunch of criminals, would you?”

Her father’s face went ghost-white. Kuina saw his hands shake. Suddenly he stood, pacing a tight circle at the side of her bed.

“I need to get you out of here. Somewhere safe and far away.”

And just like that, Kuina’s world began to crumble around her.

“What are you saying?” Kuina asked. “Dad, you can’t mean that. You can’t just...force me away. I’ll get stronger, I promise. I-I won’t let anyone hurt me ever again.”

“This isn’t about strength,” her father said. His resolve hardened with every word, his decree set in stone. Kuina had never been able to change his mind once it was made up. She had hoped to one day by becoming the strongest swordsman in the world, but at that moment her dream was very far away. She was afraid of losing her father, her home. 

Everything. 

“Will you come with me?” Kuina asked, her voice tiny. 

His expression crumpled into a picture of abject misery. “Kuina, love...I can’t.”

“Then I don’t want to go. I won’t, and you can’t make me,” Kuina said, hysteria threatening to take over her entirely. Ignoring every one of her body’s warnings to stay supine, she forced herself to sit up. “Dad, please, I don’t understand.”

Her vision went wet and misty as tears filled her eyes, spilling silently down her cheeks as she began to cry. She hated crying, hated the weakness it implied. Each halting breath shot a bolt of agony through her torso, her wound threatening to split against the strain of holding herself together. 

_Let it,_ Kuina thought wrathfully. It couldn’t hurt any more than having her heart torn in two. 

Slowly, as if burdened by a great weight, her father sat down next to her. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes, the dark circles underneath contrasting sharply with his pallid complexion.

“I can’t, because I have received a letter from the World Government requesting I train their young soldiers in the way of the sword,” he said quietly. 

“Just tell them no like you always have,” Kuina said. 

“And have them come after you again?” he said. “After Zoro, or one of my other students? No. This is...this is my price for giving food and supplies to the Revolution. A life hung in the balance then, as it does now. You’ve seen too much, little bird. If the Government realizes you’re alive…” He hung his head.

The use of her childhood nickname, spoken for the first time since she was a girl, cut through Kuina’s remaining defenses like they were wet paper. The tears came faster, each breath more ragged.

“I don’t want to leave you,” Kuina repeated. 

There was a deep sigh from her father. Then silence, save for the sound of Kuina’s sniveling. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he said, “I wish I could have saved this from you a little longer. It’s time for you to understand the way things are.”

And then he told her everything.   


* * *

Kuina didn’t have a chance to pack her own bags. She wasn’t allowed to say goodbye. No one could know what they were doing for fear of it reaching the World Government, and so, as soon as she was fit for travel, Kuina died. 

She didn’t know the story that her father told. Infection, maybe. Perhaps he let everyone believe her wounds hadn’t healed right, and she bled out. Kuina didn’t care. All that mattered was that she was leaving everything she knew and loved behind. 

Father wouldn’t even let her take Wado with her. It was too conspicuous, he said. The World Government had seen her wield it before, and if word got out about a young girl with a white-sheathed sword, then…

The sentence was left unfinished, the implication clear. There was a small, angry part of Kuina that wondered if this wasn’t her father’s last, desperate attempt to dissuade her for her dream once and for all. She focused on that anger, nursed it to a burning vengeance. If she didn’t the loss would overtake her completely, and Kuina had no intention of letting a few Government officials _or_ her father dictate her future. 

The only keepsake she took was an oni mask that had hung on the wall of the dojo for as long as she could remember. Her Father said it had been a gift from a dear friend, a memory of his time spent in a faraway land. Its fearsome visage made Kuina feel a little braver and a little less like the scared little girl she was. 

Before stowing her away on the ship that would take her far away from the danger of Shimotsuki village, her father gifted her with a katana. Its scabbard was chipped and worn, but the blade felt perfectly balanced in her hands. 

“The path that you walk will not be easy,” her father said. “You will need to be able to protect yourself.”

Kuina swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. She wouldn’t cry again. She _wouldn’t_. 

But she did wrap her father in the strongest hug she could manage, ignoring the burning ache such simple exertion caused. “Promise me you’ll tell Zoro.”

“Kuina…”

“ _Promise me_ ,” she repeated. “Maybe not today, or tomorrow...but when it’s safe. I’m not going to let that dunderhead make it to the top unchallenged.”

Her father sighed, carding his fingers through her hair before bending down to press his lips against the crown her her head. “I promise.”   


* * *

The ship stopped at Loguetown. 

Kuina wandered the city, hand clutching the scabbard of her katana. She’d never seen so many people congregated in one place before in her life. It was impossible to take it all in at once: the sights of buildings stretching up toward the heavens, the sound of a market that sold everything from food to jewelry to gunpowder, the smell of ocean brine that hung over the city like a pall. 

And the pirates. Pirates everywhere. 

Like Kuina, many wore weapons. Some stitched jolly rogers to their clothes, or had obnoxious tattoos that marked what crew they belonged to. Loguetown’s position at the foot of the Grand Line made the influx of piracy an inevitable reality, but Kuina was quietly amazed they were allowed to walk around the city, bold as brass. The townsfolk naturally shied away from them with practiced air of a population that had long-since learned how to mind their own business, but like a backed-up sewer their stench permeated _everything_. 

The Government should be hunting them. Kuina wondered how many of these pirates her attacker could have struck down in the time it took him to gather information on her father’s one interaction with the Revolutionary Army. 

Kuina shook that thought from her head. It wasn’t that simple. The Government had been trying to get her father to teach their marines for years. He had just been foolish enough to give them a reason to press the issue. Her father said that one way or another the Government always got what it wanted. It had just been a matter of time.

At least all the pirates kept her from sticking out too badly. Kuina only had a vague idea of where she was going and wanted to avoid seeming too conspicuous. Shifting her pack higher on her shoulder, she headed off for the town square. It contained all her worldly possessions other than the clothes on her back and the sword in her hand. For the first time in her life, Kuina was well and truly alone. 

Keeping her head down and doing her best not to be jostled by the crowd, she didn’t notice the execution tower at first. It wasn’t the tallest or most important building in the city, but once her eyes did catch notice of it she couldn’t look away. For something so monumental it was efficiently and practically made, metal scaffolding holding up the simple wooden platform where the Pirate King finally met his end.

This was where it all started. If not for Roger and his stupid treasure, maybe the Government would be less interested in the services of a local swordsman trying to mind his own damn business. Roger’s death led to the great pirate age, and the marines’ subsequent arms race. 

Kuina wasn’t sure who she hated more, or if it even mattered. 

Her wound pulsed with her anger, and Kuina forced herself to take a deep, cleansing breath. She’d seen how strong the Government was first hand. She had a long way to go before she could think of fighting back. 

She tore her gaze away from that damned execution platform and wandered west. Her father occasionally did business with a weapons shop in the area, and that was her ultimate destination. He sent a letter calling in every favor owed to him, asking the shopkeep and his wife to watch over her until a more permanent solution could be found. The connection was obscure enough to hopefully throw the Government off the trail, and far enough away to prevent anyone from recognizing her. 

It was a risk. Loguetown was home to a marine base, ineffective as that marine base was at keeping pirates out of the Grand Line. But it was the best her father could manage on short notice, and so Kuina went, hoping beyond hope that he knew what he was doing. 

She found the shop easily enough. A crowd of five pirates were clustered around the entrance, and Kuina stayed well back of them. At first glance they didn’t seem to be causing any trouble, and she watched with a fighter’s eye as they showed off their new blades. At least one of them looked like he actually knew how to use a sword, while the rest had the lean, hungry look of predators looking for their next meal. 

They laughed with one another, calling each other crude names and doing whatever it was pirates did when they were with their friends. Kuina allowed herself to relax marginally. All she had to do was walk past them and she’d be in the clear…

She made it about three steps before she was noticed. A scrawny pirate perked his head, sheathing his new dagger at his waist before leering down at her. “Are you lost, little girl?”

Kuina was beginning to resent being called _little_. Without bothering to answer, she moved to go around them. A second pirate grabbed her roughly by the arm and spun her around. He was slow. _Sloppy_. But so soon after being nearly cut in half, so was Kuina. 

“My friend asked you a question,” the pirate said, leaning down close enough for Kuina to smell his rancid breath. “In my day children were taught to respect their elders.”

His eyes slid to Kuina’s sword, still hidden away in its sheath. He snorted derisively. “You carrying that around for your daddy? Or do you think you actually know how--” 

Kuina acted without thinking. Drawing her sword halfway, she smashed its hilt into the pirate’s nose. Blood spurted as he howled in pain, but Kuina was already moving. Pivoting sharply, she slashed at the first pirate. He tried to dodge, but Kuina still managed to clip his bicep with the tip of her blade. 

Kuina had never been in a real fight with real steel. The surge of adrenaline was greater than anything she’d ever felt before, outstripping even her midnight duel with Zoro. Each movement was frozen in sublime clarity, like she was looking at the world through clear, perfect glass. She shifted to avoid a wild slash, ducked beneath an errant punch. 

But she was still outnumbered five to one, and still very much recovering from her wounds. A second pivot brought her directly in the path of a pirate’s foot, and she took the brunt of the attack where stitches still kept her intestines from spilling out of her belly. Kuina crumpled like a ragdoll, and another pirate -- she wasn’t sure which one -- kicked her sword out of her hand. 

“Stupid bitch,” one huffed while clutching his bloodied nose. “Stupid, crazy _bitch_.”

He kicked Kuina in the side. She was able to roll just enough, absorbing the worst of the blow with the large muscles of her back instead of her vulnerable ribs. It still hurt like hell, and the two kicks that followed weren’t any better. 

“God’s above, she’s just a kid,” another one of the pirates said, pulling him back before he could do any more. “Do you want to be known as the kind of guy who murders helpless girls in broad daylight?”

“Doesn’t look all that helpless to me,” the first said darkly. 

“We’re out in the open,” a third murmured. 

The first, who appeared to be their leader, growled in frustration. “ _Fine_. Grab her stuff and get back to the ship. Captain doesn’t want any trouble if he can help it.”

Kuina moaned as her backpack was ripped from her shoulders. The pirate whose nose she bloodied scooped up her sword, whistling softly as he held it up to the light. 

“Nice blade, kid. Deserves a better master than some brat who doesn’t know how to pick her battles.”

They laughed as they walked away and were quickly swallowed by the crowd. Kuina tried to call them back, but all that came out was a strangled wheeze. The people of Loguetown stepped around her like she was a piece of garbage, going out of their way not to look at her, let alone help her stand.

Kuina’s hands clenched into fists and she gathered every scrap of her flagging strength. She wouldn’t let them get away with this. Wouldn’t lose again to a few upstart pirates. Slowly, painfully, she forced herself to her knees.

They’d taken everything. Her sword, her money, her clothes...it was all gone. All that was left behind was the blue and red oni mask. It must have fallen out of her bag while they were stealing it from her. 

Kuina cradled it close to her chest. She couldn’t keep losing if she wanted to be the strongest swordsman in the world. What would her father say if he saw her now? What would _Zoro_ say? 

He’d tell her to get her ass off the ground and stop feeling sorry for herself. Gritting her teeth, Kuina forced herself to her feet and limped into the weapon shop. 

The owner hadn’t moved from behind the register, though it would have been impossible for him not to have heard the commotion right outside his door. At the sight of her he frowned, taking in her disheveled appearance, her labored breathing, before finally settling on the determined gleam in her eyes. 

“I need...a sword,” Kuina panted. 

“Excuse me?”

“I said, I need a sword,” Kuina forced herself to stand up straight, though it sent bolts of lightning from her chest through her back. “I’ll pay you back later, I promise.”

She grabbed a sword at random from the discount barrel and limped back to the door. When the shopkeeper finally realized what she was doing he hurdled over his register, but it was too late. 

Kuina was gone.   
  


* * *

It was nearing dark when she found the right ship. It had taken ages of asking and searching through local bounties to figure out who had stolen her sword. From then it had been a matter of taking what precautions she could: stealing linens to bind her seeping wounds as best she could, scouting where the pirate’s ship was docked, experimenting with her borrowed sword until it felt comfortable in her hand. 

It seemed like she had chosen well in that regard. Kuina was startled by the edge it held, cutting through whatever it touched with ridiculous ease. It gave off a sinister energy that suited her purposes just fine. It was a sword that thirsted for blood, blood she was more than happy to deliver. 

If all went well Kuina would only need it for a moment. If things didn’t go well, then...Kuina supposed it wouldn’t matter, because she’d be dead. 

The sun cast a golden glow across the water, the sky a painting of pink, blue, and orange. Kuina’s shadow stretched out behind her like a giant, and she fixed the oni mask firmly on her face. 

She didn’t bother trying to hide herself after that. Walking with more confidence than she felt, Kuina stepped out in front of the docked ship. The pirates on deck stopped to stare at her. She supposed she made a strange figure with her mask, naked blade in her hand. 

“Tobias Thornhill, I challenge you to a duel!” Kuina called out. “You’ve brought shame on swordsmen everywhere, and if you have an honorable bone left in your body you’ll come down here and fight me.”

Sweat trickled down her neck and she heard the men on the ship laugh. One raised his gun to shoot her where she stood, and Kuina yelled, “Thornhill, get your ass down here right now! Or are you too much of a coward to finish the fight you started?”

The laughter died, and a hush fell over the dock. For a moment the only sound was the ocean waves splashing against the wooden hull of their ship. Even the gulls had gone quiet, as if the world itself was holding its breath waiting for an answer. 

Kuina saw a few of the men scurry below deck, emerging a moment later with Thornhill. Rage bubbled within her when she saw her sword hanging at his hip, and it took a small measure of will not to storm the ship right then and there. 

Thornhill leaned over the railing, squinting down at her. “I don’t know you, boy. You’ve got the wrong man.”

Kuina’s gaze flickered down at her torso. She’d bound her chest in the hopes of keeping herself from bleeding to death, but it seemed like it had the double effect of hiding her gender as well. 

Contrarily, Kuina was annoyed that he didn’t recognize her, but she quickly realized this was another advantage. Before leaving home her father had done his best to hammer in her head the terrible power of the World Government. There weren’t many girls her age who were competent swordsmen; it was better to take whatever steps she could to protect her identity against the faint possibility of the Government finding her all the way in Loguetown. 

“You know what you’ve done,” Kuina said. She raised her sword in clear challenge. “Now come down and fight me, swordsman to swordsman. Or are you too much of a coward?”

Kuina smirked with satisfaction as Thornhill’s mouth twisted in fury. If there was anything she had learned from her father’s dojo, it was that calling a man a coward was one of the worst insults he could receive and the easiest way to stir up a fight. But before Thronhill could respond, he was stopped by another pirate. 

The newcomer was the biggest and ugliest of them all, so of course he was their captain. Kuina recognized his picture from the bounties and knew he was worth twelve million berries. She wasn’t sure she could fight someone that strong in her current state, but there was no backing down now. 

“What’s the meaning of this, Tobe?” the captain said. 

“Dunno, Captain, I swear. This bastard says I’ve done ‘em wrong, but I have no idea who he is. Never seen him before in my life.”

The captain scowled, squinting down at Kuina. “Who’re you calling a coward? Why don't you show your face, and we’ll see who’s done who wrong.”

Kuina’s gaze never left Thornhill. “Are you scared of a little duel? The Grand Line is no place for scaredy cats or weaklings. I can’t say I’m surprised, but I thought a wanted man would have a little more pride than that.”

She turned away and pretended to leave. She heard the captain say, his voice loud and clear, “Tobe? I want you to kill ‘em. Make sure it hurts.”

“Yes, sir.”

Kuina smiled behind her mask. It was time to get her sword back.   


* * *

It was well after dark before Kuina limped back to the weapons shop. Blood leaked down her leg from a cut in her thigh, soaking her boot and leaving a bloody print with every step she took. The front of her shirt was stained red from where several of her stitches had popped. She felt like she was floating through a haze, half-delirious with only a single goal driving her forward. 

Of course the store was closed. Kuina pressed her forehead against the doorframe, fighting back tears. Since her duel with Zoro nothing had gone the way it was supposed to, as if the universe itself was rebelling against her preposterous dream.

The universe could go to hell for all she cared. With the last of her strength, Kuina banged on the door, making as much noise as she was able. It was a two-story shop, but from what little Kuina had seen, only the ground floor sold merchandise. Either the shopkeep slept on the second floor, or he rented the place to someone who did. Either way, she was getting inside tonight. 

It was impossible to say how long Kuina stood there pounding on that door before she heard someone on the other side. She kept pounding until it opened, her momentum making her fall into the arms of the man inside. 

“Mr. Ipponmatsu?” Kuina said, suddenly weary. “Hi. I’ve come to give back your sword.”

“Oh my god, you’re covered in blood,” Ipponmatsu said. There was a beat of silence as he took in her appearance. “Oh my god, _my sword’s covered in blood!_ What happened? Who are you?!”

Belatedly, Kuina realized she was still wearing her mask. She slipped it off and let it clatter to the floor. “Sorry to meet this way. Did you get my dad’s letter?”

It was only after she said it that Kuina remembered she wasn’t supposed to be her father’s daughter anymore. Too late. As the floor tilted and pitched under her feet, Kuina could only hope that the little shop owner knew how to keep a secret, because she didn’t think she could fight her way out of any more trouble tonight. 

“Sorry, Dad,” Kuina mumbled as the darkness swallowed her completely. 

  


* * *

“You should be dead. You know that, right?”

From her cot, Kuina groaned. Taking that as an affirmation, Ipponmatsu’s wife continued changing the dressing on her leg. 

“Of all the foolish, ill-considered, _selfish_ stunts I’ve seen, yours takes the cake. You’re lucky we don’t throw you out on your head.”

For all her scolding, her hands were gentle as she worked. Kuina hissed as iodine was painted over the wound to keep it from festering. Ipponume clucked her disapproval. 

“If you’re old enough to go out swinging swords, you’re old enough to deal with the consequences. I suppose that’s how you hurt your chest?”

“ _No_ ,” Kuina said through gritted teeth. 

“Well, I suppose it’s none of my business.” She taped down the last of the bandage and rose to her feet. “You stay right where you are. My husband wants a word.”

Kuina watched her leave, a pit of dread forming in her stomach. She strained her ears as husband and wife exchanged heated whispers, but she wasn’t able to hear anything distinct before Ipponmatsu entered the small room and closed the door behind him.

They kept her in what amounted to be a storage closet, which probably should have offended Kuina but didn’t. She felt perfectly at home surrounded by polish, scabbards, whetstones, and whatever random crap Ipponmatsu sold in addition to weapons.

Ipponmatsu stepped around a stack of supplies and sat cross legged at the foot of Kuina’s cot. “Explain.”

“My father said--”

“I know what your father said, and it’s a load of crock,” Ipponmatsu interrupted sharply. “What’s he doing sending me his daughter? What are you doing hunting pirates? Do you realize you could have been killed?”

Kuina opened her mouth to argue, then saw the worry in his eyes. Her defensiveness left her in a rush, and she clutched the blanket around her waist. “I know.”

“You could have led those pirates back to me,” Ipponmatsu said. “Half my clientele has a bounty these days. You don’t mess with pirates in this town, girl. That’s suicide.”

“I’m not a girl!” Kuina shouted. She struggled to sit up properly. “Look, if it’s a problem I’ll take my sword and leave. I didn’t mean to get you into trouble, but I couldn’t let them win. I don’t need your help. I don’t need anyone’s help.”

“Calm down, gir--er, what did you say your name was?”

“Kuina.”

“Okay then, Kuina, calm down. I’m not letting you go out there in the shape you’re in. Even if my wife would let me, my pride wouldn’t.” Ipponmatsu puffed his chest with self-importance. “But if you’re going to stay then I’ve got to know what in the hell is going on. Why did Koshiro send you here? I know it’s not just because you’re an annoying brat, though he’d have my deepest sympathies if it was.”

Kuina looked down at the floor, hot shame flooding her cheeks. “I can’t say.”

“Sure you can. You just open your mouth and tell me.”

“No, that’s not it,” Kuina said. “I don’t want to cause any trouble for you.”

Ipponmatsu’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve caused me plenty of trouble already.”

“Worse trouble, then. I’m truly grateful for all you’ve done, but I’m sorry. I can’t...I can’t say any more than that.”

A brittle silence fell over the room, tense and brooding. Ipponmatsu’s eyes bored a hole through Kuina, as if he could find the answers he wanted by staring at her. She could only meet his gaze for a moment before looking away. She found where her sword was propped against the wall next to the deep red scabbard of the katana she’d borrowed, both freshly cleaned and gleaming.

“You’re serious,” Ipponmatsu said. “You think whatever your father’s done will put me at risk.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t call me that,” Ipponmatsu said. “It makes me feel old.”

He rose to his feet and walked to where the two swords lay. He picked up the borrowed katana, the cross-shaped guard gleaming in the light. Drawing the blade part way, Kuina could see the reflection of his eyes amidst the distinctive flames of the _hamon_. 

“You should have been killed,” he repeated quietly. With a sharp _clack_ he sheathed the sword once more. 

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not,” Kuina said. “The bastard stole my sword.”

“ _That_ I understand. Your father sent you out with some quality steel. It doesn’t have any name that I’m aware of, but the blade appears new. Perhaps it hasn’t earned one yet.”

He sighed and set the blade back in its place. “I’ll be honest, I don’t know what to do with you, but you can stay here until you heal. I don’t want any dead children on my conscience.”

He tossed a stack of bills at Kuina’s feet. “That’s for taking care of Thornhill. The Government takes a cut when they’re not brought in alive for execution -- highway robbery if you ask me -- but there’s the rest. It’ll be enough to get you started if you need to.”

Kuina picked up the money with shaking hands. “Thank you, sir--I mean, Mr. Ipponmatsu.”

He made a gesture like he was flicking away an annoying fly. “I need to get back to the shop. Try not to bleed to death while I’m gone.”   


* * *

Kuina planned to stay only as long as it took for her to stand up without feeling like she was going to pass out. What started as a week’s recovery turned to two, then three, and before she knew what was happening months and years had passed, and she still hadn’t left. 

Ipponmatsu put her to work, and Kuina was grateful for the distraction. The wound across her chest healed to an angry red scar that crossed diagonally from collarbone to hip. If she moved wrong she could feel it pull taunt, and when the weather changed it ached terribly.

She learned her lesson, and for the most part left Ipponmatsu’s clientele alone. It was funny, she always felt more nervous talking with marines. While the immediate fear of being found out faded over time, like her scar it never went away entirely. Pirates were easier to manage by far. 

Besides, Kuina still had her mask. When trouble came for Ipponmatsu that the marines couldn’t handle, she knew what to do. Kuina didn’t resort to such drastic measures often; Ipponmatsu did have a reputation to uphold and she an identity to protect, but it was good practice. 

Kuina waited for a swordsman as skilled as the man who attacked her all those years ago, but none ever came. She wasn’t sure one existed in the East Blue. As time passed, she felt herself growing restless, her dreams calling her to the Grand Line. 

Still, she waited. There was someone else she knew who would be heading to Paradise, and it wouldn’t do to get a head start.   


* * *

The day started simply enough. Kuina had the morning off work and spent her time wandering the city while her scars itched ahead of a building storm. Later on she might stop by the local dojo and knock a few overly smug upstarts down a peg or two, but going up against the local talent had long-since lost its charm. What she wanted more than anything was a real, honest-to-gods challenge, and she wasn’t likely to find that here. 

Not that anyone ever knew they were fighting her. Kuina kept her identity as a swordsman secret from everyone except Ipponmatsu. She hunted bounties with a bound chest and her oni mask obscuring her face. There were all sorts of rumors that circulated about the demon that hunted the streets of Loguetown that she did nothing to discourage. It was better if no one knew who she was.

That was especially true now that Loguetown was under the protection of newly-installed Captain Smoker and his subordinates. There’d been a great deal of confusion the first time Master Chief Petty Officer Tashigi stepped into Ipponmatsu’s shop several months previous, both Kuina and Tashigi baffled by having a doppelganger with such similar interests to their own. It would be troublesome if the marines found out she did more than just sell swords. 

And really, these days there were few bounties to hunt as Tashigi and her captain were the first marines in living memory to do their damn jobs. As much as Ipponmatsu raved about lost business, the city was safer under the White Hunter’s watch. It was rare for pirates to walk out in the open, and the few who did were always put down quickly.

Which, in a way, made the excitement around the execution stand all the more interesting. 

Kuina was drawn by the growing crowd. Rain began to fall in fat, stinging drops as a boy in a scraggly straw hat desecrated Loguetown’s greatest monument, an act Kuina heartily approved of. She laughed while policemen shouted at him to get off the platform, only to be completely ignored by the boy as he surveyed the city. 

Perching herself at the edge of the fountain Kuina watched the exchange play out, yelling encouragement the straw-hatted boy probably couldn’t hear while garnering scathing looks from passersby. She ignored them. Straw Hat was the most interesting thing to happen all week, she might as well enjoy the spectacle while it lasted.

Suddenly there was a scream. Gunshots fired, followed by the clash of steel against steel. The crowd panicked, people running in droves away from the execution platform. Kuina was too far away to see what was going on and climbed onto the rain-slicked fountain for a better view. 

Pirates. A whole gang of them, many most wearing cheap grease paint and jester’s hats. They were headed by a woman in a billowing cloak and a pirate with a great red nose. The woman was new to Kuina, but she recognized the face of Buggy the Clown from the bounties posted near the marine base. 

Before she could move, another one of the Buggy Pirates attacked from above, trapping the boy in stocks while the clown himself raved about a public execution. Kuina didn’t have a sword on her. She never did unless she was wearing her mask. Cursing her own bad luck and unpreparedness she ran against the fleeing crowd, ducking under the first pirate she saw and clocking him square in the nose, stealing his blade before he ever hit the ground. 

“Sorry not sorry,” Kuina shouted as she cut her way through swarths of pirates. The cutlass felt awkward in her hands, the balance all wrong compared to her katana. But apparently Buggy didn’t choose his crew based on competence, and she was able to cut through opponents like hot butter. 

There were too many. She heard someone behind her shout for Luffy, looked up in time to see the straw-hatted boy yell, 

_“I’M GONNA BE KING OF THE PIRATES!_ ”

Kuina stopped dead in her tracks. Pirate? _Him?_ He didn’t look old enough to shave. 

The boy, Luffy, seemed to see someone out in the crowd. “Sanji, Zoro, save me!”

All at once Kuina’s heart stopped beating. On base instinct she dodged the slash of a pirate, not paying enough attention to counterattack. She was searching through the people, trying to look past the dizzying array of color for that familiar shade of green. 

She heard the voice behind her shout once more. Kuina tracked the sound, ignoring the sting as a blade grazed her arm. He was close, so close after all these years. 

The boy in the straw hat laughed, clear and pure. “Sorry guys, I’m dead.”

Kuina shot a questioning glance, and gasped as she saw Buggy’s sword descend toward his neck. At that moment there was a clap of thunder louder than any she had heard in her life, electric white light flashing down on the execution platform. 

The thunder boomed, rolling down the streets of Loguetown long after the flash of lightning struck. The heavens opened in a deluge that instantly put out the fire of the bolt, but there wasn’t a force in the world that could have kept that execution platform from falling. Metal groaned as rivets were forced loose, the wood that wasn’t blasted into oblivion cracking and splintering, the entire structure leaning sideways as if pushed by a divine hand. For the briefest moment Kuina thought it might steady itself, but it swayed an inch too far, reaching its tipping point before collapsing into a mess of rubble and smoke.

Kuina was stunned. The pirates were stunned. Everyone in the world save for Straw Hat Luffy was stunned. The boy...no, the pirate...was somehow able to jump to his feet unscathed, dust off his pants, and laugh, pausing just long enough to return his hat to its rightful place on his head.

He was crazy. He had to be. But he was also somehow connected to Roronoa Zoro, a fact that was painfully obvious when Luffy grabbed him and a blond man by the shoulder and ran into the rainy streets, still laughing like a madman.

It was the first time Kuina had seen Zoro in years, but it was impossible to mistake him for anyone else, for all that he’d grown up to be square-jawed and muscular in a way that would have been attractive if she didn’t remember him best as a scrawny green shrimp. She recognized his surly expression, as well as the white sword he wore at his hip. 

_Wado Ichimonji._

They were gone before Kuina could regather her senses, disappearing in the throngs of people still trying to escape the chaos, but she’d seen the direction they went. There weren’t many safe places for a pirate to dock, and Kuina thought she knew where they were headed. 

The familiar hum of adrenaline filled her veins, and she ran through the pouring rain to Ipponmatsu’s shop. It was only a few minutes from the square at a dead sprint, and she forced everything from her mind except catching up to Zoro in time. The questions -- why was he traveling with pirates? Who was that straw-hatted kid? -- could wait. 

Kuina burst through the door of Ipponmatsu’s shop with her lungs burning and heart pounding. She ran to the converted storeroom where she still slept, grabbing her sword and -- after a moment’s hesitation -- her blue oni mask. 

“Kuina?” Ipponmatsu called. “Kuina, what’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you later!” Kuina shouted, before sprinting back out into the rain.

Straw Hat Luffy had run west, so that’s the direction Kuina went, cutting through backstreets and alleyways until she made it back on the main street where they had initially fled. Straw Hat and Zoro didn’t know the city like a local would and weren’t likely to stray from the bigger streets for fear of getting lost. That was the hope, anyway. Kuina had lost valuable minutes retrieving her sword and didn’t have time to second-guess her instincts. 

Her guesswork paid off moments later as a group of marines clustered around a pair of dueling figures emerged from the storm. Master Chief Petty Officer Tashigi had been disarmed and pinned to a wall by Zoro, who was wielding only one of his three ( _three?_ ) swords. Straw Hat and the blond man were nowhere to be seen, nor was Captain Smoker or the pirates who attacked the square. 

“I can’t stand you!” Zoro shouted. “You have the same face as a friend who died years ago! You even say the same things as her, and I can’t stand it!”

Neither of them noticed when Kuina came up behind them, taking out the marine grunts with the back of her blade. “I’m not dead you moron!”

Zoro whirled. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but stay out of my business!”

“For god’s sake, Zoro, I always knew you were an idiot. I told you, I’m not dead!” Kuina tore the mask off her face, grinning wildly as all the color left his cheeks. “What, did you not believe Dad when he said I was alive? Did you think he just saw my ghost or something?”

Zoro looked from Kuina to Tashigi and back again. For a fraction of a second his blade wavered, and that was all Tashigi needed to break his hold. She dove for her sword, but Kuina was faster. A moment later Kuina had her pinned to the ground with her katana at her throat, blade so close Tashigi nearly cut herself breathing. 

  


“I’ve got no quarrel with you, Petty Officer,” Kuina said, her voice deathly calm, “but if you raise your blade at my friend again you won’t live long enough to regret it.”

“You’re a swordsman?” Tashigi said. “ _You’re_ the Demon of Loguetown?”

“Wait, no, you don’t get to ask questions,” Zoro snapped. “Why are you not dead? Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t dead?!”

Kuina blinked rain out of her eyes. “Dad didn’t tell you?”

“No, your dad didn’t tell me!” Zoro exclaimed, throwing his arms to the heavens in exasperation.

“When I saw you with that kid I figured that’s why you were here,” Kuina said. “To see me.”

It felt so stupid to say it out loud like that, but why else would he be here? With pirates, no less? Kuina studied Zoro’s face, so familiar and yet not after all these years, not sure what else she was supposed to say. For whatever reason, her father hadn’t passed on her last request. 

He had spent the last nine years thinking she was _dead_.

“Roronoa has been sailing as a bounty hunter for more than a year,” Tashigi said. “Everyone who reads a newspaper knows that.”

“And what makes you think I read the fucking paper?” Kuina snapped. “All that’s in there are lies and garbage promoting the World Government.” She pushed herself off of Tashigi and stood up straight, careful to kick Tashigi’s sword far out of reach. 

“I’m sorry,” she said to Zoro, more softly. “I thought you knew.”

“Well I didn’t,” Zoro said. He his arms dangled from his sides numbly, his blade barely hanging from limp fingers. “But I’m glad you’re not dead.”

“Me too.”

Without thinking, Kuina wrapped him in a tight embrace. She felt Zoro stiffen under the contact, then slowly relax before patting her awkwardly on the back. 

“I, uh, really need to go. My captain needs me,” Zoro said. 

“So it’s true. You’re a pirate?” Kuina said, looking up at him properly. 

He shrugged. “Yeah. It’s kind of a long story. I’ll tell you about it next time.” He swallowed hard. “I mean, you are still aiming for the top? Right?”

“Of course, you big green goober.”

She felt him smile. “Then we’ll see each other again. You owe me a rematch.”

“Anytime,” Kuina said. She released him, glad that it was raining so he couldn’t see her cry. As he turned to run off toward that strange, straw-hatted kid, she said, “Um, Zoro, why are there bite marks on the hilt of my sword?”

Zoro reddened from his scalp down to his neck, his blush clashing horribly with his hair. “Gotta go, bye! See ya around! Come find us on the Grand Line!”

Kuina watched him run until he was swallowed by the dark grey of the storm. Despite the wet and the cold, she smiled. Zoro was okay. He might not have known she was alive, but he was okay, and he was still aiming for the top. 

When Kuina turned around Tashigi was struggling to sit up, holding a baby den-den mushi to her ear. Through the static and wind she heard Captain Smoker barking orders. Kuina only sighed and found her mask, fitting it back over her face before turning back towards Ipponmatsu’s shop. She supposed helping Zoro escape made her a criminal. She’d have to hurry before they raided the store to arrest her. 

“Where are you going?” Tashigi demanded. 

To get money and some clothes. Maybe pack a bit of food if she thought she had the time. But the Petty Officer didn’t need to know any of that, so Kuina shrugged. “To the top.”

Kuina felt the tiniest bit guilty leaving her like that. She gathered Tashigi’s katana, freshly sharpened just that morning, and handed it to her. “A word of advice, Petty Officer, since you seem like a nice enough person. The World Government isn’t what you think it is, and if there’s any justice at all in the world, the whole thing would burn to the ground.”

A strong westren wind gusted through the streets, swallowing any answer Tashigi might have given, and Kuina didn’t care enough to ask her to repeat herself. Hand firmly around her sword, Kuina began walking home for the final time.

And as she walked, something dormant within her began to stir. Her dream, after being stifled and pushed back for so long, roared to life. Storm or no storm, marines or no marines, Kuina couldn’t imagine herself staying in Loguetown another day longer. Not when she knew who was waiting for her on the Grand Line. 

Kuina had weathered her father’s disparaging opinions of her ambition, tempering the pain that should have stopped her until it was her greatest weapon. She had survived the crime of being at the wrong place at the wrong time and rebuilt her life from the smoldering ashes left behind by a cruel and unjust regime. It didn’t matter if she was a girl, or that the World Government wanted her dead. She didn’t care what anyone else thought she should be, because she had chosen her own path. 

Kuina was going to be the strongest swordsman in the world.

And in the end, that was all that mattered.


	2. Canary Cove

Kuina walked into Ipponmatsu’s shop sopping wet and chilled to her very bones. At the entranceway she shook herself like a dog, spraying drops of water all over the store. It was a childlike indulgence, something she never would have considered just that morning. But at that moment nothing seemed to matter. Not the shop, not her manners, nothing. 

She heard Ipponmatsu before she saw him hurl a towel in her direction. Kuina caught it one handed, keeping the other clenched tightly around her sword. It was still nameless after all these years. It didn’t seem right to bestow it with such an honor when her birthright was still at Shimotsuki Village. 

Except Wado wasn’t with her father. Zoro wore it at his waist, because... _why?_ Had he taken it? Had Father _given_ it to him?

Kuina dried her face and hair before turning to face Ipponmatsu properly. The commotion had drawn his wife from the storeroom, Ipponume standing by his side with an arm wrapped protectively around his waist. Twin looks of concern broke through Kuina’s distracted thoughts. She blinked once. Twice. 

“I’m leaving.”

What would have been a grand pronouncement moments ago came out strained and creaking. She was leaving the people she’d come to love as family, possibly forever. Kuina’s vision went fuzzy, and even though she’d just dried her face she could still feel the wetness on her cheeks. 

Kuina wiped them with the back of her hand. She hated crying, had ever since she was a little girl. 

“Kuina, what’s going on?” Ipponmatsu said. “I saw the pirates in the square, and then you come running in here like the devil himself was on your heels before running back out again! They’re saying on the den-den mushi that Smoker’s put the whole city on lockdown!”

 _Smoker_. Somehow, Kuina had forgotten about him. She put her mask on hurriedly, not that it’d do much good now that Tashigi knew who she was. “Sorry, I don’t have time to explain.”

Not waiting for their reply she hurried to her room and began shoving clothes into a pack as fast as she could. It was the same one her father had sent her with years ago. The material was faded and worn, but it suited her, sturdy enough to fit her needs without drawing attention to itself.

“You can’t leave now!” Ipponume exclaimed. “Even without Smoker’s crackdown there’s not a ship on the island that’ll sail in this kind of weather!”

“I’ll worry about that later.” Kuina dug her small bundle of savings out from under her mattress. She’d offered to hand over her earnings as a bounty hunter for rent, but neither Ipponmatsu nor his wife ever allowed it. In exchange, Kuina didn’t let them pay her for the work she did for the store. She supposed it more or less balanced out in the end, except she owed them so much more than money. Kuina had to blink back more tears, which had been joined by an uncomfortable tightness in her throat. 

“If anyone asks, you never saw me,” she said, willing her voice not to waver. “You didn’t know about my mask, and I was just some village kid you picked up on a whim. I’m...I’m sorry if I get you into trouble.”

Kuina got back to her feet, and without looking at either Ipponmatsu or Ipponume bowed deeply at the waist, deeper than she ever had for anyone she didn’t call Father. “I know words alone cannot convey the gratitude I owe you, but thank you. Thank you for opening your door to me that night.”

Still bowed, Kuina heard Ipponmatsu turn sharply on his heel and march out of her room. Surprised and hurt, she rose jerkily and stilted. Even if there was anything else to say, Kuina didn’t trust herself to speak. Turning her back so she didn’t have to see Ipponume’s reaction, Kuina resumed her packing, willing her facial features into a stoic expression more befitting of a swordsman. 

Suddenly, her nose was assailed with the smell of Ipponume’s cooking. Kuina stiffened at the sound of Ipponmatsu’s wooden _geta_ clacking softly against the hardwood floors. Against her better judgement she turned to see Ipponmatsu tying a plastic sack around a box of bento. He handed it over to Kuina, an eyebrow raised. “I suppose this is about that green-haired swordsman?”

"Zoro? You met him?” 

“Met him?” Ipponmatsu snorted. “Girl, I gave him two swords free of charge.”

Kuina accepted the offered bento, too shocked to say anything else. 

“He’s the second person I ever met whose luck matched Sandai Kitetsu’s curse.” A faraway, awed look came over him. “Bet an arm on it, in fact.”

“You gave him Yubashiri, too,” Kuina said, remembering the other sword she’d seen hanging at his waist. She’d been too focused on Wado to even wonder about it. She looked up at Ipponmatsu’s face, searching. “Why?”

It wasn’t because of any connection to Kuina. She’d made a point not to talk about her past before Loguetown, preferring to make as fresh a start as possible. It was easier, in some ways, not to reminisce. 

“Because I saw something in him. He’s the real deal, a true swordsman.”

“Oh, honey, please,” Ipponume said. “What does this have to do about—”

“And I see that same look in you, Kuina,” Ipponmatsu interrupted forcibly. He crossed his arms across his chest and tilted his chin, looking like a rooster that had just finished his morning preen. Kuina knew him well enough to know when he was bluffing, and to her astonishment...he wasn’t. 

“We knew we couldn’t keep you here forever,” he continued. “A cage as small as this isn’t near enough for you to spread your wings. I look forward to seeing how high you can go.”

Ipponmatsu lifted the blue oni mask from Kuina’s face, pinching her cheek like he used to when she was young, knowing how much it annoyed her. He offered a grin that couldn’t quite hide the extra shine in his eyes. 

“Knock ‘em dead, kid.”

Kuina managed a wobbly smile of her own. “The marines will be here any second. Remember, you had no idea. About any of this!”

She tried to bow again, but with the single most derisive snort Kuina had ever heard in her life, Ipponume wrapped her in a hug strong enough to crush a bear. “I have no idea what’s gotten into you all. _Swordsmen_.”

But Kuina heard the pride in her voice, and she fixed it into her mind, hoping to remember it forever. Pausing only to grab an oiled cloak, Kuina plunged herself back into the streets of Loguetown for the final time. 

* * *

If there was one ship stupid enough to leave port in the middle of a raging storm against the orders of Captain Smoker, it was Zoro’s. Kuina didn’t hold out any hope that he would still be on the island by the time she made it back to the coast, and even if it did, her pride rankled at the idea of riding his coattails to the Grand Line. She’d always imagined them setting out together. As _equals_. But that was before knowing that he’d spent the better part of a decade thinking she was dead, before learning he’d become a pirate, and before Kuina threw away nine years of secrecy to attack one of the few marines who knew who she really was.

So much had changed since just that morning, and in it all Zoro had found his way. Now it was up to Kuina to find hers. 

It was a sentiment that was much easier said than done. Kuina stayed close to the alleys and side streets she knew like the back of her hand, having to duck back into the shadows more than once as clusters of marines ran down the rainy streets. The usual crowds had vanished, and despite the rain and the thunder, the absence of the human element made Loguetown feel like a ghost town. 

Kuina guessed by the direction the marines were running that they were still busy at the square. Buggy the Clown had snuck an incredible amount of pirates into the city under Smoker’s very nose, and that wasn’t something he would take lightly. 

With their paint and their ruffles, Buggy’s troupe stuck out like a sore thumb, and at the moment, so did she. For the first time Kuina wasn’t sure whether or not to wear her mask. It didn’t seem right to be seen with her sword without it. The two had always gone hand in hand, the familiar weight on her face a comfort that protected her more than any shield. Without the demon mask Kuina felt a little like she was going out to battle naked; there was no rule saying she _couldn’t_ fight without it, but she had absolutely no desire to do so.

If she stuck to the shadows the dark of the storm _should_ be enough to keep her hidden. All Kuina had to do was make it to the docks and stow away on a ship, and if not stow away use her reputation as the Demon of Loguetown to get what she wanted, hopefully before the marines put out a warrant for her arrest. 

It was a risk. The mask was conspicuous, and in the past Kuina had always gone out with her chest bound. She knew—she _knew_ —that everyone and their dog assumed the Demon was a man. In a pinch she might be able to bully her way onto a ship, the shapeless silhouette of her cloak enough to disguise her gender, but she didn’t feel confident enough in her acting ability to pretend to be a man for however long it took to reach the Grand Line. Without the duplicity she could easily see a ship’s captain brushing her aside as an imposter or kicking up a fuss. Or both, if she was especially unlucky. 

A crack of thunder broke through her jumbled thoughts, and Kuina bit back a curse. Time _._ She was running out of _time,_ each wasted second dwindling her already-limited options _._ There was no point trying to figure out what would happen out at sea if she couldn’t get off the damn island. 

Father always said a true swordsman would never allow themselves to be swayed by emotion or sentimentality, and logic dictated that stowing away was the safest option, assuming she could find a ship setting sail at all. And stowing away meant stealth, and stealth meant _not_ walking around dressed up as one of Loguetown’s most feared bounty hunters. 

Gritting her teeth, Kuina slid the mask off her face and stuffed it into her pack, irritation burying like ants under her skin. Now the only thing conspicuous about her was her sword, and that wasn’t so easily hidden even within the bulky confines of her cloak. A thousand warnings echoed in her mind in a voice that sounded suspiciously like her father’s. 

She stuffed that down as well and resumed her journey. With Captain Smoker effectively shutting the city down, there was a chance it could be _days_ before she could actually make her escape. Smoker’s control over Loguetown was too tight for anything to escape his grasp, his men too well trained to let anybody slip through once they set up a perimeter. 

Unless, of course, she hitched her ride to freedom someplace other than Loguetown.

Kuina came to an abrupt halt, suppressing the urge to smack herself upside the head for not thinking of it sooner. There was a cove just outside the city favored by pirates, smugglers, and merchants too cheap to pay the docking fee in town. Every couple months Smoker and his men went on expeditions to clear the place out, but as it turned out scum was an infinitely renewable resource, and the criminal population that called Canary Cove home always came back twice as strong as before.

Kuina herself had ventured to the cove on occasion to collect bounties. A shantytown sprung up from the mire, grown around every sort of illicit trade like a tumor. And like a tumor, it sucked life and resources from Loguetown proper. Cleverly nestled at the base of a shallow cliff, it was close enough to Loguetown for easy access, but almost impossible to find unless you knew what you were looking for. Any ships that dropped anchor were hidden from view by the sheltering arms of the cove.

She would be safe from the marines, but it would be a trick and a half to convince someone to let her aboard one of their ships, let alone to get to the Grand Line. The people who lived at Canary Cove were damnably insular, with lookouts posted every hour of every day and a dozen bolt holes hidden in the cliffside for people to scatter through once an alarm was sounded. Kuina always hated when a hunt took her here. For every trick and secret she discovered it seemed like there were a dozen she didn’t know about, and anyone found ratting out an accepted member of the community would quickly find themselves with a knife in the back for their troubles. 

An exception was made for those who could afford it, the exchange of money for goods and services a universal language understood by both lawmen and the lawless. Maybe she wouldn’t need to stow away at all. With enough coin in the right hands Kuina could _buy_ her way into the Grand Line. 

That was an awful lot of _maybes_ , but she was at the point where a bad plan was better than no plan at all. Kuina was confident about her ability to go up against any of Smoker’s men, but his Devil Fruit was another story entirely. It was best to avoid any chance of a confrontation, and to that end Canary Cove was her best bet.

By the time Kuina snuck out of the city and made it to the bluffs, the sky had faded from dark grey to pitch, starless black. Wind howled, and without anything to cut its teeth, Kuina bore the full brunt of the storm’s ire. Guided by sporadic flashes of lightning and the unpleasant memory of previous excursions, she carefully picked her way down the rocky slope. There wasn’t a proper trail as much as a zigzagging path that looked like it had been intended for a group of particularly athletic goats. The footing was loose and slick, and Kuina was forced to use her katana like a walking stick just to keep from tumbling into the sea below. 

About halfway down Kuina slipped on a patch of crumbling stone. Her feet slid from under her, jagged edges of limestone tearing holes in her cloak. She didn’t have time to scream as she plummeted down…

down…

_down…_

Reflex alone made her keep her hold on her katana, and when a jutting edge of rock sent Kuina airborne she was able to regather her senses enough to twist her body, stabbing her blade into the cliffside and praying she could hold on long enough to arrest her momentum even as her shoulder threatened to wrench out of socket. She slammed back against the cliff, stars flashing across her vision brighter than lightning, but somehow Kuina was able to maintain her grip. 

Kuina slowed herself enough not to snap her ankles in half at the base of the bluffs. She tumbled into a boneless heap, gasping for air and not entirely sure she was still alive. Chunks of wet sand clung to her cheek, stinging as it grated against an abrasion that ran from temple to jaw. Kuina felt blood trickle down her leg, a dozen other aches and pains vying for the rest of her attention. 

So much for her glorious entrance to the Grand Line. 

With a grunt of effort Kuina forced herself upright, shaking as the surge of adrenaline left her as suddenly as it had come. Another bolt of lightning revealed that her sword was still stuck in the slide of the cliff. With as much dignity as she could muster, Kuina retrieved it before leaning back against the rockface.

_Ow._

It was the only coherent thought she could manage at that moment. Sinking back to the ground, Kuina decided that finding a ship could wait the five minutes it took for her to catch her breath. 

At least she was out of the wind. The storm had only grown stronger in the time it took for her to reach the cove. Each raindrop was an icy needle that penetrated her now-useless cloak. Kuina wiped strands of wet hair from her eyes, ignoring the blood and the grime on her face as she peered out into the darkness. The torches that usually illuminated the shantytown had fizzled out, leaving only a few specks of lantern light to show the blocky outline of shacks made of rough wooden planks, held together with bits of twine and waterproofed with oakum and tar. The town jutted over the edge of the water, standing on stilts that swayed haphazard with the waves and the wind. To Kuina’s surprise, two great warships were anchored just offshore. More lightning revealed that one bore the mark of Buggy the Clown, while the other didn’t have a flag at all. 

Curious.

What was more curious were the dots of light clustered by the wharf nearest the second ship. The dim light was just enough to see a cluster of people hurrying up and down the gangplank. Kuina grinned. Maybe someone was crazy enough to depart tonight after all. 

“Oi, who goes there?”

A vague mass of humanity emerged from the darkness. Kuina struggled to her feet, shrugging her pack higher on her back and keeping a hand wrapped around the hilt of her sword. One of the figures lifted a lantern, illuminating a hard-faced woman flanked by two bulky men with swords. Underneath their raincoats they wore the mismatched, ragged clothing typical of the people who called Canary Cove home. Lookouts, most likely, who’d seen or heard her tumble down the cliff and come out to investigate. 

Kuina didn’t relax her stance. “I don’t mean any trouble. I’m just looking to hitch a ride, and it looks like you’ve got the only ships setting sail.”

The woman peered at her suspiciously. “Who are you—” 

Her eyes widened in recognition before ever finishing the question. An unholy shriek pierced over the whipping wind, and she screamed, “Marines! The marines are coming!”

“What, no!”

Kuina barely had time to draw her sword before one of the thugs was on top of her, the clash of blades sending sparks into the night sky. She shoved him aside and met the second man before he could decapitate her, the weight of his strike making Kuina’s injured leg buckle. 

The woman continued to shout the alarm, waving her lantern high above her head. Kuina let out a string of curses as she batted the second man’s blade out of his hands before smashing the hilt of her sword against his temple. He crumpled instantly, and Kuina prayed that she hadn’t killed him. 

“Listen, this is a big misunderstanding. I’m not a marine!” Kuina shouted as men and women poured out of Canary Cove like wasps from a kicked over nest. Most fled for the cliffs, but enough came charging at her for Kuina to know she was in trouble. 

“You think I wouldn’t recognize the face of the bitch who killed my boy?” the woman snarled. “I’ve seen you yipping at the heels of that dog Smoker often enough, praying for the day I’d do to you what you Government bastards did to him!”

From the depths of her robes the woman pulled a gun, but Kuina was already moving. The first shot went wide right, and Kuina rammed her shoulder into her abdomen before she could get off another. The woman screamed as she fell, firing wildly into the growing throng of people. 

Kuina felt the bullet whizz by her ear, and the person in front of her doubled over clutching their ribs. She dove between two others and somersaulted back to her feet before they could turn around. This time she didn’t waste time using the back of her blade. Two quick strokes and they were down, her sword slick with their blood. 

“It’s just one girl! Don’t let her get away!”

“For fuck’s sake _,_ ” Kuina muttered irritably. “I’m not a marine!”

It didn’t matter, and Kuina couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of her current situation. She ran toward the shantytown, dodging bullets and ducking under swords. The crowded housing and narrow walkways lessened the advantage of numbers, and she was still determined to force her way onto the unmarked ship. Sand shifted to rickety planks of wood underfoot, the docks made entirely of salvage and held together with little more than some rope and a prayer. 

Kuina’s grin widened. Hardly breaking stride, she swung her sword behind her, the keen blade cutting through the half-rotted wood like warm butter. She ducked behind a house and listened for the screams of those following her to fall through to the sea below. 

_Amateurs._

Wood creaked overhead. Kuina looked up in time to see a teenage girl standing on the top of the house to hurl a rock at her head, dodging to the side before it hit the walkway. 

“Missed!” Kuina yelled. 

But the girl had already thrown herself off the other side of the roof. Puzzled, Kuina glanced back and saw that the girl hadn’t thrown a rock at all. 

“Oh shit—” Kuina flung herself backward as the bomb exploded. Her heel caught on a post, and she fell into the water. Brilliant light flashed, the blast tearing the dock to pieces. Slivers of wood longer than her hand shot through the water, any one of them enough to pierce her through at close distance. Kuina swam as far and as fast as she could, until her lungs burned for lack of air. In the confusion she couldn’t remember which way was up, the weight of her clothes and sword making it hard to fight against the pull of the water. 

Turning wildly, Kuina panicked until she saw the orange glow of fire through the murky water. Blackness ate at the edges of her vision as she used the last of her strength to breach the surface, gasping for air. 

“There she is!”

Swallowing a curse and a lungful of air, Kuina dove back under the water, pistol fire flashing like fireflies in the dark of the storm. With her bearings it was easier to swim back to the docks, diving deep enough to avoid being shot. 

She came up directly under their feet. The swell was rising every minute, and Kuina had scant inches of air between the sea and the rickety slats they stood on. She willed her heartbeat to slow, ignored the sting of salt in her wounds. Her hands searched until they found a bit of wire latching two planks together. Fingers numb with cold held on with whatever strength she had left. 

She was in trouble if they had explosives that could detonate underwater. She was in trouble anyway, injured and fighting and a dozen enemies that she could hardly see. But now that she could think, Kuina refused to panic. Each breath came out slow and steady as she weighed her options. Overhead, the people of Canary Cove began to argue. 

“She’s dead. Ain’t no one that could survive a barrage like that.”

“Do you see a body? ‘Cause I’m not gonna rest easy until I see a fucking body.”

“I can’t see _shit_. C’mon, guys, I’m going home.”

“I would, except one of you idiots _blew it to smithereens!”_

Someone stomped their foot, sending drops of water through a crack nearly an inch wide onto Kuina’s face. Slowly, carefully, she adjusted her hold on the wire, positioning herself more squarely under the squabble. The people paid less and less attention to the water as they argued, yelling about the fire and the supposed marine attack. Kuina felt the rumbling of bootsteps up and down the length of the dock, but couldn’t tell if that meant people were leaving or if more were joining the fight. 

“What’s the meaning of this?” a new voice exclaimed. “What’s going on here?”

“This doesn't concern you, stranger,” the man who’d complained about his house said. “If you were smart, you’d walk back to that fancy boat of yours and get on your merry way. Ten to one says it was you people who brought the marines here in the first place.”

“Marines? _Here?_ But our intelligence says—”

“Well you can take your intelligence and shove it up your—”

Using the wire for leverage, Kuina thrust her sword through the crack. The man screamed as he tried unsuccessfully to jerk his foot off her katana. There was a sickening squelch as Kuina pulled free, immediately stabbing a second time. 

This time she missed the opening between the planks, but it hardly mattered. There were more screams as people hurled themselves away from her sword, many falling into the sea. The few that kept their wits fired back, thrusting swords and shooting blindly to the space Kuina had occupied just moments before.

They were too slow. After her second thrust she bit down on the hilt of her sword and swam to the other side of the docks, cutting through the water as if she herself was a blade. Kuina pulled herself out of the sea while they were distracted, their backs turned. 

Kuina’s grin turned razor sharp as she raised her sword. She hadn’t wanted this fight, but she would gladly finish it. Her pulse thundered in her ears, her muscles coiling. All it would take is one strike…

A hand clasped around her wrist and squeezed. Kuina suppressed a yelp as the bones of her wrist ground against each other, pain shooting up her arm. She fought against the hold, but the more she struggled the tighter the grip became until Kuina had no choice but to drop her katana. 

Anger boiled over into fury. Without thinking, Kuina twisted her body to its breaking point and caught her sword with her off hand before it could hit the ground. Her grip was awkward, but she didn’t care, slashing wildly at the person who held her. 

Her arm made it about halfway through its swing before it jolted to a stop, as if Kuina had hit some invisible metal wall. She barely had time to register what had happened before she was thrown backward, slamming into the back of one of the men who had been trying to kill her. 

The blow knocked all the wind out of her, and the man staggered into the person next to him before falling. People began to shout as that man then fell on top of _Kuina_ , burying her in a pile of thrashing limbs and blades. 

There was so much noise and so much confusion that she almost didn’t hear the telltale crack of wood beneath her, and before Kuina knew what was going on she was plunged back into the cold, dark, unforgiving sea.

* * *

By the time Kuina woke the rain had eased from a torrential downpour to a mere thunderstorm. Every inch of her ached, and for as heavy as her limbs felt she wouldn’t have been surprised if her blood had been replaced with rivers of lead. 

Blinking grit and salt from her eyes, Kuina struggled to sit up. In a brief moment of panic she realized that her scabbard was no longer at her hip, only to find that it, and her sword, had been laid out beside her. 

“She lives!”

“G’wah?”

A cloaked figure squatted down beside her. Smaller, Kuina realized, than the person who’d knocked her out cold. And a woman. A woman with one of the deepest voices Kuina had ever heard, but a woman nonetheless. 

“Who’re...who’re you?” Kuina asked, her words slurring together like she were drunk. Her head pounded as she tried to sit up once more. 

“I was wondering the same thing.” The woman paused to light a cigarette, the hood of her cloak protecting it from the rain. Kuina squinted to see her better, the ember of the cigarette illuminating a pleasant round face, dark eyes, and lips that had been painted the color of fresh blood. 

The woman exhaled, the smell of smoke briefly cutting through the ocean brine. “How did you find us, little marine?”

“‘m not a marine,” Kuina mumbled.

“Folk around here seem to think you are.”

Kuina told her in anatomically-improbable detail just what she thought of Canary Cove’s opinions. 

The woman laughed, took another drag and said, “You have to admit the resemblance is rather striking. If the boss hadn’t seen you two together I might not have believed it. In fact, I still have my doubts.”

She reached beneath her cloak and pulled out Kuina’s mask. “I mean, who would have thought that the good Captain’s right-hand man would have a doppelganger moonlighting as Loguetown’s most feared monster. There are operas with more convincing plotlines than that.”

“Give it back,” Kuina said through gritted teeth. “It’s _mine_.”

“Oh ho, so you admit to being the Demon of Loguetown?”

Kuina clenched her jaw and didn’t answer. 

“Thought so.” The woman flipped Kuina’s mask in the air like it was a frisbee, catching it again before it could hit the ground. “So what brings a bounty hunter here, and on today of all days? Hmn? Was there a hunt you couldn’t refuse? Did someone tell you about a certain ship coming into port?”

She tossed the mask again, but this time Kuina was ready. Quick as a snake she plucked it out of the air, bringing her katana up in the same motion. Kuina was so close she could feel the heat from the woman’s cigarette, the edge of her blade against her neck. 

“I said. Give it _back_.”

From within the depths of her hood, Kuina could see the woman’s eyebrows raise, red lips curling in an amused smile. She was completely relaxed, and that gave Kuina pause. 

“I’m a firm believer in letting people do things for themselves,” she said. Without seeming the least bit threatened, she arching her head back, turning her attention somewhere behind her. “Well, boss, what do you think? Should I kill her?”

A second figure emerged from the gloom, and it was a testament to how out of sorts Kuina was that she hadn’t noticed his hulking figure until the moment he decided to reveal himself. It took her confused mind precious moments to recognize him as the man who grabbed her. Kuina scrambled backward, but the woman only laughed, pushing aside her sword with one hand and giving Kuina a hard shove with the other, knocking her flat on the ground. 

“That wasn’t necessary,” the man grumbled in a low voice that rumbled like thunder. 

His massive shadow fell over Kuina. She knew she should be afraid, but all she could feel within her was anger. She stared into the impenetrable depths of his hood, defiant even in weakness. If they wanted to kill her, the future greatest swordsman in the world, then they were in for a fight. 

“Who are you?” Kuina demanded just as a bolt of lightning flashed overhead, as bright and bold as the one that had taken out the execution tower. For that brief moment she could see the face of the man strong enough to throw her like a ragdoll, a man so strong her blade failed to even reach him. 

Kuina saw his long, beaky nose, the mass of black hair that fell down past his shoulders and the piercing eyes that seemed to bypass all her defenses. But most of all she noticed the red tattoos criss-crossed down the left side of his face, instantly recognizable even to someone who refused to read the paper. 

“ _Dragon_ ,” Kuina said dumbly. “You’re...I don’t...What’s the Revolution doing _here?_ ”

The woman got to her feet to stand by Dragon’s side. “You mean you didn’t know? Then what are you doing stirring up trouble on a night like this? Don’t tell me you were looking for that buffoon with the red nose.”

“ _You_ were the ones who attacked _me,_ ” Kuina said. She pushed herself upright, using her sword clamber to her feet. The motion made the world spin for a moment or two, or maybe that was just her mind trying to catch up with the momentous revelation she just learned. 

“That’s not what it looked like from where I stood,” the woman said. She flicked the remnants of her cigarette behind her in disgust. “You would have killed—”

“Betty.”

That one word was enough to stop her rant dead. Dragon took another step forward, and Kuina had to force herself not to step back to accommodate him. Before he could say any more, she pointed out to sea. 

“Is that your ship?”

Dragon, the leader of the Revolutionary Army and the most wanted man in the world, tilted his head. It was a strangely human gesture for someone most were convinced was some kind of monster. A real one, not a girl who dressed the part while she was out working. 

“Why do you ask?”

Kuina jutted her chin out defiantly. “You do most your business out on the Grand Line, right? I need a ride.”

Betty laughed to her face, but Dragon merely nodded. “All right.”

“I can’t very well ask the idiots here after the fight _they_ started, and Smoker’s got all of Loguetown locked tight. You _owe_ me–wait.” Kuina startled as his words sank in. “You’re serious? I can go with you?”

“The Army doesn’t owe you _anything_ ,” Betty snapped, before imploring her boss, “I know you saw her with that marine girl, but I don’t trust her. She’s a _bounty hunter_ , for god’s sake. It’s bad enough she saw our faces, think of the breach in security—”

“The World Government nearly cut me in half because of you,” Kuina said coldly. “You probably don’t remember, but nine years ago my father gave you aid. I hope it was worth it, because the Government decided to punish us for _your_ crimes.” Her gaze never wavered from his, daring him to try and contradict what she knew to be true. “So before you get all uppity about me ending a fight I didn’t even start, maybe you should ask yourself how much innocent blood you’ve got on your hands first.”

Betty fell silent while Dragon continued to peer down at her. Kuina’s cheeks flushed as years of pent-up resentment and anger and helplessness bubbled to the surface, and no amount of swordsmen training was able to push it back down again. The Revolution was just as bad as the Government as far as she was concerned, fighting in an endless war that hurt more than it helped. 

She didn’t care about any of it. She’d spent countless nights wondering what would have happened if her father had just left well enough alone, what it would have looked like if a simple moment of altruism hadn’t torn her life and family apart. 

All that mattered now was her ambition. And if Kuina was ever going to become the greatest swordsman in the world she needed to get to the Grand Line, and if she was ever to get to the Grand Line she needed a boat. It didn’t matter to her where that boat came from, as long as she was on it. 

Ignoring her long itinerary of aches and pains, Kuina sheathed her sword and picked her tattered backpack off of the ground. “I’m ready to go when you are.”

Dragon inclined his head, and without any further deliberation started walking to his ship, Kuina limping closely behind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge shout out to Codedredalert for doing the artwork for this chapter. She went above and beyond the call of duty with her work and deserves all the kudos. Be sure to check out her fanfics (I personally recommend her daemon series) and tumblr, where she has some other great Kuina art posted. 
> 
> Chapter 3 is already mostly written and I hope to have it posted within a week or two. Thanks as always for reading, I hope you enjoyed!


	3. An Unexpected Detour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, I will admit I’ve changed how Betty’s DF works for this chapter, but I think it makes sense given what we saw in canon. It’s my story, and I can do what I want

Kuina woke up sore and confused, alone in a room she did not recognize. Her clothes were stiff with dried salt and blood, and when she jerked up in a panic she discovered the bunk above her by bashing her head into the wooden slats. 

“ _Ow...”_

Slowly her eyes adjusted to the dim light, and memories of the previous day trickled in. Kuina groped for her sword, letting out a small sigh of relief when she felt that it was by her side, her bag tucked between her pillow and the wall. 

Did ships have walls? Other than her voyage from Shimotsuki Village to Loguetown, she didn’t have much experience sailing. It had always seemed like too great a risk when everything she needed could be found within the city. 

Kuina snorted as she sat up, careful to mind her head. Her past self would be appalled to know all the stupid things she’d done in the last twenty-four hours. 

There was nothing for it now but to move forward. Kuina brought her bag into her lap and began surveying the damage. There was the beginnings of a hole near one of the seams that Kuina didn’t trust, and the thick material was still damp and heavy with seawater. When she opened the flap, Kuina couldn’t stop a small noise of dismay from escaping her throat. Nothing inside had been waterproofed, and her tumble down the cliff had smashed the bento Ipponmatsu lovingly prepared into pieces, smearing bits of rice and god knew what else over the inside of her pack. The clothes could be washed and the bag repaired, but her money—so carefully horded after years of bounty hunting—was a soggy mess of paper and ink that threatened to disintegrate in her hands. 

The loss of the money didn’t bother her. At least, not much. There was always a need for bounty hunters, and pirates in the Grand Line tended to be worth more than those in the East Blue. No, what Kuina found more distressing was the implication of failure. She had spent the better part of nine years _dreaming_ of the day she would escape the East Blue. She’d planned and schemed, imagining what it would be like to reunite with Zoro at last, only for it to all fall to pieces the moment he made it to Loguetown. 

The shattered expectations were like a kick in the teeth, and now she was at the mercy of a bunch of terrorists, at least one of whom wanted to kill her. It wasn’t fair, and Kuina felt herself getting angry all over again. She welcomed it. Anger was better than having to think about the fact she’d thrown away every protection her father had given her for nothing. 

She wouldn’t let her guard down again. 

Taking a deep breath, Kuina hurried to get ready as best she could. She was acutely aware that she stank and probably looked like a hobo, but a quick survey of her quarters didn’t reveal anything that could help her in that regard. She settled for brushing the salt out of her hair and changing into a pair of clothes that didn’t have any bloodstains, As she moved Kuina took an inventory of aches and pains, and was pleasantly surprised that other than a little soreness and a gimpy ankle she was unharmed. 

She’d cleaned and oiled her sword before allowing herself to sleep, but Kuina inspected it again anyway. A fresh scar gashed across the black lacquered scabbard, but the night’s escapades hadn’t damaged the sword itself. There was a quiet elegance to the katana her father had given her. It was a blade that didn’t feel the need to draw attention to itself, from the plain, straight _hamon,_ to the simple black handle, to the unremarkable round guard devoid of engravings. There was nothing about Kuina’s sword that stood out as exceptional, but to hold it was to know true craftsmanship. It was shorter and lighter than Wado Ichimonji without sacrificing durability. There weren’t many swords who would have survived being stabbed into a cliffside without shattering. Hers hadn’t even dulled.

Kuina gave a few experimental swings, blade cutting through the air noiselessly and steel singing in her hands. Satisfied that it was in good condition, she hung the sword at her hip, feeling more at ease despite the less-than-ideal circumstances she found herself in. 

With her katana taken care of, Kuina looked around her surroundings for the first time. There were beds all around her, enough for at least two dozen people, but the Revolutionary Army was nowhere to be seen. Kuina frowned, senses sharpening with her alertness. There was a slight sway underfoot, but the sea wasn’t as rough as what she’d expect from the Grand Line. She could hear people outside the cabin and the pounding of feet above her, but their voices were too muffled and far away. Kuina skulked to the door and tested the handle—unlocked. Confusion deepening, she left the cabin, only to come once again to an abrupt stop. 

A giant of a woman was sitting outside her doorway, eyes closed and arms wrapped protectively around the biggest crossbow Kuina had ever seen. A bolt was loaded into the chamber, one meaty hand laying too close to the trigger for comfort. 

Kuina hadn’t made any noise, but the woman blinked awake. With a yawn, she looked up at Kuina, eyes unreadable behind thick glasses. 

“Good morning,” Kuina said. 

The woman nodded in response and clambered to her feet. She was as tall as Dragon and nearly as broad, built as solid as an oak tree. Thick shocks of short brown hair spiked in all directions, looking like it hadn’t been combed in weeks and giving her head the look of an unkempt hedgehog. The wildness of her hair seemed at odds with the rest of her face, a square jawline, narrow nose, and thin lips lending her a severe, humorless expression.

“Are you going to shoot me?” Kuina asked cautiously. 

“Only if I have to,” she said, her voice too soft for someone so large. She beckoned Kuina to follow as she headed down the corridor. “This way. You slept through breakfast, but I’m sure we can find something for you to eat.” 

Nonplussed, Kuina followed. “Who are you?”

“Lyudmila Kuznetsova.” 

Kuina waited for her to elaborate, and when she didn’t, asked, “You’re a part of the Revolution?”

Without turning around, she said in that too-soft voice. “We all are, but you. We took you because Dragon asked and nothing else, so do not presume to think you are privy to our secrets.”

As if Kuina wanted their secrets. People...Revolutionaries...stopped at the sight of them, many wearing masks or with their faces covered in bandanas or cloth wraps. Kuina could hear them whisper before they even got out of earshot.

She squared her jaw and kept her hand near her katana, refusing to be cowed. “Fair enough. Have we made it to the Grand Line yet? I know the entrance is near Loguetown, but I didn’t feel us ride up a crazy mountain so…”

A ghost of a small passed over Lyudmila’s features, gone almost before Kuina had to register its existence. “We are not going to the Grand Line.”

“What.”

“You join a Revolutionary ship, you run on the Revolution’s timeline.” Lyudmila stopped to pound at a thick wooden door. “Elizabeth!”

After a few seconds of silence the door flew open, revealing a five foot bundle of wrath and irritability in the shape of a woman wearing thick rubber gloves and a backward baseball cap. “What is it, I’m busy!”

Lyudmila gestured to Kuina. “Guest needs food.”

“Guest can kiss my ass!”

Elizabeth’s attempt to slam the door shot were foiled by Lyudmila stretching out one thick arm, effortlessly arresting the door’s momentum. The smell of something sulfuric wafted into the hallway. 

“Guest needs food,” she repeated. 

“Then take her to the galley. I’m _busy._ ”

“I don’t need anything to eat,” Kuina said. “When is this ship going to the Grand Line?”

“See, she doesn’t even want food. Now go away and—” Elizabeth was cut off by a sharp popping noise, like someone had set off a firecracker in the room behind her. With a strangled yelp, she rushed back towards the smell of sulfur, which was getting stronger by the second. Unperturbed, Lyudmila went in after her, with Kuina sneaking in close behind.

The room looked to be a converted storage closet, crammed with shelves of strange bottles full of mysterious liquids and dominated by a solid oak table that had been bolted to the floor. The source of the odor seemed to come from there, where a large beaker of bubbling fluid was threatening to boil over into an electric burner that for some reason had been wired to half a dozen potatoes. 

Elizabeth quickly cut power to the burner, waving her hands to disperse the fumes. She gave Lyudmila a look that could have peeled paint.

“If that’s how you cook potatoes, I don’t want any,” Kuina deadpanned. She smiled innocently as Elizabeth turned the full force of her glare on her. 

“I see the Revolution’s recruited another meatshield,” she said acidly. “Probably spent too much time learning how to wave around pointy metal sticks to ever go to school, or you might have known it’s a battery. _Idiot._ ”

Kuina’s grin sharpened. “Didn’t grow potatoes back home, my teacher used lemons instead.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “You’d think Revolutionary agents would know how to recognize a joke since you joined up with one, but I guess that’s my fault for not lowering my standards. _Idiot._ ”

Sighing softly, Lyudmila set her crossbow on the table and stepped between them. Clasping one hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder and another on Kuina’s, she forced both of them to take a step back. “Enough. Elizabeth, you are assistant cook. It is your job to make sure our guest is fed. And _you_ —” A coldness passed over her, even as her expression remained perfectly neutral, “—would do well to keep your mouth shut.” 

Her grip on Kuina’s shoulder was like iron. There was no indication that it took any effort for her to hold her in place. Part of Kuina wanted to push her just a little bit farther, just to see how far that strength went, but the sensible side of her knew better than to test the generosity of the Revolutionary Army. At least while Dragon was aboard. 

“I just want to get to the Grand Line,” Kuina said. 

Lyudmila loosened her hold, eyebrows rising over the rims of her glasses. “You have chosen a very odd way of doing so. Elizabeth?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get the asshole her breakfast. Just give me a sec.”

Kuina decided it would be better to wait outside the strange room full of exploding liquids and potatoes, and a few minutes later Elizabeth emerged to thrust two slices of toast into her hands. One side was burnt so badly to be charcoal, while the other was still cold. Kuina looked up at Lyudmila in silent question. The giantess only shrugged. 

“I did not say she was a _good_ cook.”

* * *

“Okay, but seriously, when are we going to the Grand Line? Because if it’s going to be awhile I might as well get off at the next island and hitch a ride with someone else.”

They were above deck, waiting outside the captain’s quarters, but why, Kuina didn’t know. She was impatient and ill-tempered, but tried not to show it as she scanned her surroundings for potential enemies. In the daylight she could see that she’d lionized the ship the night before. Without the storm and the lightning it seemed like a perfectly average brigantine with a crew of about a hundred men. There were no signs betraying its true nature; it sailed under the flag of a merchant company and there were no cannons on deck to draw suspicion. 

There were a surprising amount of women, maybe a quarter of the crew in total. Some, like Lyudmila, carried weapons, and all looked to be competent sailors. Kuina couldn’t recall a single ship passing through Loguetown with so many women aboard, pirate or otherwise. Even the marines base, despite their relentless recruiting efforts, couldn’t boast so many, and they had a Tashigi as their second-in-command. 

Kuina didn’t know what to think of that, so she pushed the thought aside. The gender ratio among the Revolutionary Army wasn’t her concern. 

“Why do you wish to go?” Lyudmila asked. 

Kuina’s grip on her sword tightened. “You have your secrets, I have mine.”

Lyudmila inclined her head. “Fair enough.”

The two of them fell into a comfortable silence, and Kuina felt a knot in her stomach loosen, grateful that Lyudmila didn’t pry or seem suspicious of her intentions. There was a steadying presence about Lyudmila, like an anchor during a storm, that made it easier to bear the uncertainty of not knowing what was going to happen next.

They had waited for about five minutes when a figure descended from the crow’s nest and bounded toward them like a bullet. It was yet another woman, taller than average but nowhere near Lyudmila’s hulking height, with a willowy build and crow-black hair pulled into a braid that fell halfway down her back. She grinned mischievously, white teeth flashing against coppery brown skin. “The stowaway lives!”

“I’m not a stowaway,” Kuina said. 

“Eh, close enough. Name’s Darareaksmey, but most call me Dara. It’s a pleasure to meet you at last. Although I guess technically we met last night,” She clasped her hands together and gave an irreverent bow. 

“We met?” Kuina said. 

“Kinda sorta—you were asleep by the time my watch ended. Did you know you snore?” Dara looked up at Lyudmila. “So, what’s the verdict? Does she get to stay, or is someone going to have to throw her overboard?”

The door to the captain’s quarters opened before Kuina had a chance to voice her indignant protest. Dragon stepped out onto deck, along with Betty and another woman Kuina didn’t recognize. 

“Dara, if you’re going to eavesdrop, you better learn how to do it _quietly_ ,” the woman Kuina didn’t know said. “Now scat. If you have time to loiter, you have time to work.”

Dara stuck out her lower lip. “But, Boss! I want to know what happens—”

“I said _scat._ ”

Still pouting, Dara slunk away with the unrepentant mulishness of a cat that’d just been scolded for clawing up the furniture. Betty smirked, a look of fond exasperation on her face. “I bet that one gives you grief.”

“Not as much as I suspect this one will,” the woman retorted, jerking a thumb in Kuina’s direction. “Are you sure you can’t take her?”

“You know that’s impossible.”

“Only until you reach the Grand Line,” Dragon said soothingly. “Then she must decide where the wind will carry her.”

The woman narrowed her eyes at Kuina, her hand resting on the elaborate hilt of the rapier she wore at her side. Kuina had always wondered how people could fight with a sword like that. It looked like it would hold up in a real fight about as well as a toothpick against a machete. “I don’t like it.”

“It’s a week at best,” Betty said. 

A week. They were going to delay her entrance to the Grand Line by a _week._ Under any other circumstances Kuina would have been ecstatic to be so close after so many years, but she’d _just been_ at the entrance the night before. She should be there _now,_ not however long it took for the Revolution to tire of dragging her around for the hell of it. 

“Don’t I get any say in this?” Kuina asked. 

“You got your say when you demanded for Dragon to take you in the first place,” Betty said. She gestured to the woman beside her. “Kuina, meet Aria de Gris. She will be the captain of the ship that will take you to the Grand Line. Aria, this is Kuina.”

The two women regarded each other warily. Aria was stockily built and carried herself with feline grace. There was a sharpness to her features, which were more handsome than beautiful, that was accentuated by a jagged scar on the left side of her face that ran from temple to jaw. Her hair was kept shorter than even Kuina’s, with garish streaks of purple in her otherwise dark hair.

Like many experienced sailors, she was weatherbeaten in a way that made it difficult to tell if she was thirty-five or fifty, and she wore a heavily-embroidered doublet and black breeches that she tucked into scuffed, knee-high boots. A long jacket hung from her shoulders, empty sleeves rustling in the breeze. 

Kuina narrowed her eyes. Only marines wore their jackets like that. 

“I appreciate the offer, but when I asked to go with you I was working under the assumption you’d be headed directly for the Grand Line,” Kuina said. “Now that I know that’s not the case, I think it would be better for everyone involved if you guys just drop me off at the next island, and I’ll find my own way.”

“And you would think wrong,” Betty said. 

“Look, I’m trying to be reasonable here,” Kuina snapped. “It’s clear you don’t like me, and I sure as hell don’t like you, so why can’t we just part amicably and call it a day? It’s not like I’m going to be able to narc after what happened at Loguetown. The marines don’t cut deals with people who attack their junior officers, even if the info’s good. I don’t plan on ending up in prison.”

Aria snorted before reaching into her breast pocket for a cigarette and a lighter. “There’s no planned stop till we get to our destination, and I doubt you want to hang around a war zone. Not many ships headed to the Grand Line there.”

“War zone?” Kuina echoed.

“This is an army, kid, not a pleasure cruise. So put on your big girl panties and let Mila show you the ropes. On this ship, if you don’t work, you don’t eat.”

“You trust me to do work for the Revolutionary Army?” Kuina asked. 

“Nope, but I already told Mila to put a bolt between your eyes at the first sign of trouble, and I _do_ trust her. So I guess it’s up to you how this charade plays out.”

Kuina’s eyes flickered up at Lyudmila, and wondered if she was as fast as she was strong. She suppressed a grimace and forced her hand away from her sword. As much as she didn’t like it, she couldn’t deny that it was her own fault she was on this ship. With her money nothing more than a soggy lump of paper, it was only fair that Kuina earn her keep. 

Dragon nodded approvingly. “Listen to Betty and Aria, and when you arrive at the Grand Line make your choice. I can’t guarantee your safety otherwise.”

“You make it sound like you’re not going to be around,” Kuina said. Dragon didn’t respond, but his silence said plenty. A quick glance was enough to show that Betty was no happier about their arrangement than she had been the night before, and Kuina didn’t want to find out how she’d act when her big boss wasn’t around. “Where are you going?” 

There was a delicate pause, broken by an unladylike snicker. Aria hid her face by taking another drag from her cigarette, but couldn’t stop her shoulders from shaking with surprised laughter.

“It’s the Grand Line, isn’t it?” Kuina said. “You get to go to the Grand Line while I’m stuck sailing in the opposite direction.”

“Yes.”

Kuina bit back a caustic remark. She didn’t know what game he was playing, but whatever it was, she wouldn’t let him win. A swordsman paid their debts, and as twisted as the deal was, the Revolutionary Army had promised her a way into the Grand Line. 

And if they tried to renege on their promise, then, well, she could pay that back, too. 

“Fine. You’ll have my blade for a week and no more. What kind of war are we walking into, anyway? Has the Revolution taken over some backwater island, or are you going after the Government directly?”

“Oh, you won’t be doing any fighting,” Betty said. 

“Why not?” Kuina asked. “I’ve already proven my skill, and I don’t have much choice but to do what you say. I won’t go after civilians, but I’m pretty sure any marine who knows who I am is going to attack me on sight anyway.”

“I’ll show you why.”

Betty reached behind her and pulled out a small flag from somewhere on her person. Where, exactly, Kuina would never know, because the volumes of her skirt didn’t appear to have pockets, and the only other articles of clothing she was wearing was an unbuttoned jacket and tie. It was the most uncomfortable ensemble Kuina had ever seen, but before she could make a smart remark Betty had waved the flag in front of her.

Kuina saw the black lettering on a scarlet background, a stylized dragon standing proudly between the _R_ and the _A_ , showing for all the world to see who exactly who the Revolutionary Army fought for. Kuina tensed, bending down into a ready stance, but Betty didn’t seem to be attacking. 

“What the…?”

Sudden, naked fear pierced past Kuina’s defenses. Her stance wobbled, cold sweat beading at her forehead and heart pounding in her chest. The echo of cold, mocking laughter reverberated in her mind, memories half-forgotten painted anew, rejoining the terror and powerlessness she felt when she had been unable to break Dragon’s hold. The bruise on her wrist throbbed where he had grabbed her, the acute awareness that her blade had failed to even _touch_ him leaving a dread heaviness in her gut. 

_This is what happens when you do business with the Revolution.  
  
  
_

Kuina wanted to puke. She wanted to run, to throw herself into the sea, because to be in the same space as the Revolutionary Army was to court death and pain. It didn’t matter how altruistic they seemed, they were the enemy. An enemy that was much stronger than she. 

“Devil Fruit?” Kuina spat between clenched teeth. “That’s playing dirty.”

“A flag properly wielded inspires those who fight for it. But for those that don’t, it brings nothing but terror,” Betty said. “And put your sword away before someone gets hurt.”

Kuina looked down at her hands. She didn’t even remember drawing her blade. Her hands shook so badly she doubted she could swing it, although at that moment there was nothing she wanted more than to cut the smug look off of Betty’s face. 

“I’m surprised she can even hold it,” Aria said thoughtfully.

“A trapped animal bites hardest,” Betty said. She raised an eyebrow at Dragon. “Are you _sure_ about this?”

Dragon turned back to the captain’s quarters, cloak billowing behind him. “Until the Grand Line.”

He shut the door behind him, leaving Kuina alone with the three other women. Lyudmila patted her bracingly on the back, the force of the blow almost making her stumble. “Welcome aboard.”

Kuina didn’t trust herself to speak. Despite the tremor in her hands she managed to sheathe her blade cleanly. Swallowing hard, she gathered a modicum of her composure before glaring balefully at Betty. The Revolutionary remained unmoved. 

“Dragon seems to think you have potential, but I can’t help but wonder why someone who was nearly cut in half by the World Government would hold such resentment for the people fighting against it.”

Without waiting for Kuina to respond, she and Aria rejoined Dragon. Once the door shut behind them Kuina looked up at Lyudmila. Between shaking breaths she said, “Just so you know, I’m not going to let myself get shot.”

Her expression was impassive as stone. “Then I ask that you do not give me reason to do so, because I will not miss.”


	4. Measure of Skill

Kuina spent the next three days learning her way around Belo Betty’s ship. As promised, Dragon soon departed, disappearing like a mirage on a hot day, gone as if he’d never existed. He had been the one person who seemed to actually wanted Kuina on board, and with him gone Kuina felt quite alone. She spent her days doing what Lyudmila told her to do, when she told her to do them, fulfilling the obligation she had to the Revolution for getting her out of Loguetown and hoping it was enough to keep them from throwing her headfirst into the sea.

Practically speaking, that meant doing dozens of chores while Revolutionaries showed her the ropes. Literally. Kuina spent much of her time cleaning what needed to be cleaned, hauling what needed to be hauled, and mending what needed to be mended while learning the basics of sailcraft.  Darareaksmey in particular seemed to take great delight in mocking Kuina’s ignorance, which according to the other crew meant she liked her. 

The work was a welcome distraction, reminding Kuina of the menial chores she used to do around the dojo before she was old enough to learn the sword. And more importantly, the people around her liked to talk. The Revolution never openly discussed their plans when she was around, but Kuina was such a silent fixture that they seemed to forget when she was in the background swabbing the deck, or washing dishes, or whatever other odd job she’d been assigned at that moment. 

What she learned was illuminating. Belo Betty wasn’t just some Revolutionary nobody—she was in command of the entire East Blue. The ship Kuina was currently on was hers, Dragon somehow able to manage travel by himself from the Grand Line for a mission of strategic importance. 

Aria de Gris was another leader, but of only a single ship that had been damaged in the previous battle. She and a portion of her crew had joined with Betty to see Dragon back to the Grand Line and talk strategy. Dragon had never planned to return with them to the battlefield, his departure interrupted by Kuina’s sudden appearance. 

It was childish, but Kuina bitterly wished he would have just taken her with her. She could feel Zoro’s lead stretching by the second, and the thought of falling even further behind made her want to pull her hair out.

The Army wasn’t even going to let her  _ fight _ . 

“Better,” Dara said as she inspected the rope she’d given for Kuina to practice her sailor’s knots. “This one almost looks like it’d hold together during an East Blue squall.” 

If she was nervous about their nearing destination, she didn’t show it. With quick, nimble fingers she undid Kuina’s handiwork and returned the rope. “Now do it faster.”

Kuina grudgingly did as she was told. The noonday sun beat down overhead, cooled by a delicious sea breeze. After three days Kuina was almost used to the sway of the ship, but didn’t think she could ever feel comfortable surrounded by so many people crammed in such a small space. “I don’t know why you bother. I’ll be gone in a few days.” Kuina said.

“Pfft, you wouldn’t last a week on the Grand Line in your state,” Dara said. “You’re lucky you’re a quick study—it took Lizard three times as long to get half as good as you are now.”

“I can hear you,” Elizabeth said irritably as she passed out rations to Kuina and the women minding her. The galley had been made into a makeshift war room debating last-minute preparations for landing later that day, with Lyudmila given strict instructions to shoot Kuina if she went within twenty feet of its doors. 

“I know,” Dara said breezily. “That’s why I said it.”

Elizabeth made a rude gesture that only made Dara laugh. Scowling, Elizabeth asked, “What are you even doing out here? Shouldn’t you be in the meeting? It sounded important.” 

“Boss knows I don’t have the patience for that kind of stuff,” Dara said. “She’ll let me know what I need to know. This is  _ much  _ more amusing.” She turned her attention to Kuina. “Watch out, you’re tying it backwards again.”

Kuina gave it another attempt. “Where are we even going?”

Elizabeth and Dara exchanged looks before turning to Lyudmila, awaiting her judgement. Kuina held her breath, giving up on even the pretext of industry. Of everything she’d overheard, no one had breathed a word of their ultimate destination, let alone any details about the supposed war that was being waged there. The veritable brick wall only whetted Kuina’s curiosity.

Sometimes she regretted not reading the paper. 

“You can’t keep it from me forever,” Kuina pointed out. “Is it Tolouse?”

Elizabeth let out a huff and turned away, giving a sarcastic wave as she walked back to the galley. “I’m not getting into trouble for this.”

“Coward!” Dara called before grinning at Kuina. “How’d you figure it out?”

“Been headed dead east for three days. There aren’t that many islands it could be,” Kuina said. She shrugged, picking at the ropes. “Besides, you hear a lot of interesting things from the pirates who come from that way. The king doesn’t seem all that popular—easy to stir up trouble there.”

“You’re half-right,” Dara said. 

“Dara…” Lyudmila said in a warning tone. 

“Fine, fine,” she said, flopping dramatically on her back, hands tucked behind her head. “The big fight’s over anyway. This is just a pitstop.”

“To switch ships?” Kuina said, glancing at Lyudmila. As always, it was difficult to guess what she was thinking, but she made no further effort to censure their conversation. 

“And gather the rest of our crew, yeah,” Dara said. “Then we’re getting the hell out of this backwater and going back to where we belong. East Blue is bor- _ ing.  _ Don’t know why Boss was so interested in coming, to be honest.”

There was a pause, and Dara turned over to her stomach, propping her head up on her hands. Her eyes flickered to Lyudmila, who shook her head slightly. She sighed. “Haven’t had a decent fight in weeks.”

“You just came from a war,” Kuina said, nonplussed. 

“An East Blue war,” Dara corrected. “And thus one that was very boring. Everyone knows East Blue isn’t worth anything in a fight.”

Kuina smirked. “Maybe you haven’t been fighting the right people.”

The glint in Dara’s eyes turned wicked. “Sweetheart, I like you. In fact, I think you’re hilarious. But you underestimate the strength of the Grand Line, and it’s going to get you killed if you’re not careful.” 

“Maybe, but all I’ve heard is a lot of talk without anything to back it up,” Kuina said. 

“That’s bait,” Dara said, grinning, “and I’ll not bite—Oh hello there, Boss. How’s tricks?”

Kuina didn’t  _ jump _ , but her hand did move instinctively to her katana as de Gris exited the galley, breaking away from a cluster of Revolutionaries exiting the war room to approach them. She acknowledged Dara’s greeting with a nod. “The situation’s changed.”

Lyudmila went very still, while Dara and Kuina exchanged confused looks. “How do you mean, Boss?” Dara asked. 

“Reinforcements arrived before the Revolution could completely secure their defenses. They punched a hole through our line and recaptured the armory, jammed communications, the works. We’re lucky Trini was able to get a message through at all. It sounds like the situation’s hot and not in our favor.”

“What?!” Dara exclaimed. “We had the city completely taken! Their king was in  _ chains _ .”

“Not anymore,” de Gris said. 

Dara jumped to her feet. “What about the rest of the crew?”

“As far as I know they’re fine, but we’re going to need all hands on deck if we’re going to scrape out a win.” She looked down at Kuina, the scar running down her cheek pulling her mouth into an unhappy grimace. “Alright, Swordsman. Time for you to put your money where your mouth is.”

Far above them, the Revolutionary flag snapped proudly in the wind. Eyes narrowed with suspicion, Kuina tried to discern the older woman’s intentions. “You’re going to let me fight?”

“I need to make sure you’re good enough to not die. Big difference.” With a whisper of steel, de Gris unsheathed her sword. “Prove to me there’s some bite behind all that bark.”

Beside her, Dara paled. “Boss, you can’t be serious…”

“It’s just a skill check. I need to know what level she’s at, and this is the easiest way to do it.”

They didn’t think she could win. Kuina threw the rope she’d been working on aside and climbed to her feet. Bowing slightly to de Gris, she said, “I’m honored to accept your challenge.”

“What are you, some kind of samurai?” de Gris paused to fish out a cigarette, putting it to her lips and lighting it one-handed. “You have till I finish this to show—”

In a flash her blade was up to meet Kuina’s. Even holding it one-handed, de Gris was able to effortlessly stop the full weight of Kuina’s blow. Dara and Lyudmila scattered as a cat’s grin stretched across de Gris’ face, smoke curling from the end of her cigarette. “Not bad, not bad at all. And here I thought you were nothing but dojo trash.”

She pushed Kuina back, and for a moment the two circled one another, each trying to get a measure of their opponent. Kuina was vaguely aware that they had attracted the attention of the rest of the Revolution, and saw Lyudmila whispering fiercely in the ear of Belo Betty.

“Eyes on me, kid!” de Gris shouted before exploding in a flurry of strikes. Her movements were unlike anything Kuina had ever seen. With impossible quickness she closed the distance between them. Her footwork, the angles she used to attack, were all new and unfamiliar. Kuina, used to fighting against sabers and katanas, was quickly driven to the defensive, each reaction a heartbeat too slow to do anything else as she tried to process the foreign fighting style. 

De Gris moved with liquid grace, reminding Kuina more of a dancer than a swordsman as she fought. Each step was economical and precise, her blade flashing from every angle, seemingly simultaneously. Kuina was forced to take a step back, then another, but was quickly running out of room to retreat. 

But even as she was being driven back, Kuina began to sense the pattern in her steps, the method to her mad dance. The rapier a piercing weapon. It depended on thrusts and parries over slashing attacks. The blade didn’t have the mass to manage a single, crushing blow, relying instead on speed and precision. 

Well then. It was time to disrupt de Gris’ timing. 

Kuina feinted a forward thrust, and in the half-second it took de Gris to defend jumped backward onto the ship’s railing. A ripple of surprise rose through the crowd as she ran across the iron rails until she reached the middle of the ship, leaping toward the boom of the foremast.

“Impressive, if you’re a monkey,” de Gris called. “But I thought you were going to fight—”

But Kuina didn’t stop. She caught an unsecured line and used her momentum to swing behind de Gris, aiming an attack at her exposed back. As expected, de Gris was able to evade with ease, and the bones in Kuina’s arms jolted with the force of her blade cutting through the deck before somersaulting back to her feet.

“You don’t like giving people time to talk, do you,” de Gris said. “And you do realize we have to actually sail on this ship, right?”

“Send me a bill,” Kuina said, grinning wildly. She pulled her sword from the wood in time to deflect de Gris’ rapier, melting from defense to offense as she tried to use their reversed positions to force de Gris into the same limited space she had just escaped from. 

It was damnably difficult. De Gris wasn’t the strongest opponent Kuina had faced, but she was the most technically proficient. It had been years since Kuina had needed this level of focus in a fight, and she could feel the rust in her movements. 

Without even realizing it, she’d let herself grow complacent, and de Gris was exposing that weakness now. 

All the more reason to get to the Grand Line as soon as possible. The East Blue had nothing more to offer her. On the world stage it was nothing, which meant  _ she  _ was nothing... 

Blood roared in Kuina’s ears as she failed to get anywhere near de Gris. Kuina took greater risks, forced her body to move all the faster to match her opponent’s feline grace. De Gris’s thin, weightless blade was no match to Shimotsuki steel, and Kuina put the full weight of her rage behind each attack. 

Somewhere in the back of her mind she registered a flicker of surprise in de Gris’s eyes a moment before Kuina’s blade clashed against her own. With a quick flick of the wrist Kuina batted it aside, just as de Gris had done at the start of her fight, using her own momentum against her to gain inside position. 

Kuina attacked without thinking, and she was lucky de Gris was as fast as she was. Her blade passed by the tip of her nose by a hairbreadth, slicing what was left of her cigarette down to the pale orange filter. 

The silence couldn’t have lasted for more than a moment, but it felt like it captured an eternity. De Gris’s eyes followed the path of the still-burning cigarette now rolling down at their feet. She sighed, sheathing her sword and said, almost to herself, “Is that all?”

“What do you mean?” Kuina demanded. “Clearly I—”

“You had until the cigarette was gone to show what you were made of. Well, time’s up. This fight is over.”

“You’re just scared because I was winning,” Kuina said. 

The words struck a nerve. A muscle in de Gris’s jaw twitched and her nostrils flared slightly as the air around her shifted, circling like the winds of a hurricane with de Gris as its malevolent eye. Kuina shifted back into a defensive stance, keeping half an eye on Belo Betty. The Revolutionary commander had her arms crossed over her chest, flag nowhere in sight. 

“You really thought you had a chance,’ de Gris said. “You couldn’t feel the distance between us.” She shook her head in disgust. “And you call yourself a swordsman.”

She reached for another cigarette, paused to take a deep drag. When she finally looked at Kuina, she saw nothing but contempt. 

“Hit me with your best shot, kid,” Aria de Gris said, raising her sword in languid challenge. “I’ll show you how much you have yet to learn.”

Kuina’s grip on her sword tightened. The blood boiling in her veins had calmed enough for her to realize she’d said a very stupid thing when surrounded by a ship full of enemies who likely wanted to kill her, but she wasn’t afraid of de Gris or her sword, and her pride refused to back down from such a grievous insult. 

This was her chance to prove herself to these people. 

Kuina took a deep breath, steadied her racing heart. She could feel the power around de Gris. The older woman was settled, like a table with a low center of gravity. She wouldn’t be easily overturned, but Kuina was confident. She was ready. She had trained her whole life for this moment, for the chance to be acknowledged as a skilled swordsman and not just a little girl playing with a blade 

Her father once said that a true warrior wielded the blade of ten thousand men. Maybe she wasn’t there yet, but she was worth more than this one. 

Kuina lifted her katana above her head, ready to end this in one strike. “ _ Thousand man—” _

De Gris was inside her guard before she could finish speaking. 

Kuina moved on instinct, but de Gris batted her sword aside as if it were an inconvenient fly. With her free hand she reached inside the long coat hanging from her shoulders. In one fluid moment she pulled out a gun, cocked it, and pushed the cold metal barrel under Kuina’s chin. 

It was horror in slow motion. Kuina flung herself back just as de Gris shouted, “Dara,  _ now!” _

An unseen force plowed into the back of Kuina’s knees. She crumpled face-first into the deck, white light flashing across her vision as her forehead cracked against the wood. Attempts to roll away were stopped by a pressure against the wrist of her sword hand and a vice-like grip around her ankles. 

Kuina looked up to see Aria de Gris’s foot on her wrist and her gun between her eyes. Twisting frantically, Kuina couldn’t help but let out a yelp of alarm that  Darareaksmey’s arms, head, and torso had her legs pinned firmly to the ground, the rest of her body seemingly melded with the deck. 

“What the hell?!” Kuina exclaimed. “This was a duel! You...you  _ cheated! _ ”

“It was a skill check,” de Gris said flatly. “Do you think people in a war are going to line up for you all nice and neat, one at a time? Do you think they’re going to play by some arbitrary  _ rules? _ ” 

She lowered her gun and sheathed her sword. “I’ve no use for a soldier with more ego than common sense. I don’t care how big a hot-shot you were in your little backwater dojo. In the real world, you aren’t worth shit.”

* * *

“You know, you don’t have anything to be ashamed of. I’ve not seen anyone do that well against the boss in, well, a long time.”

“Please stop talking, I am begging you.”

Kuina ground the heels of her palms against her forehead, hoping to counterbalance the terrible pounding currently beating against the inside of her skull. She’d suffered from headaches on and off since being pushed down the stairs of her father’s dojo, and falling face-first into the deck had triggered a monster between her temples.

Dara was undeterred. “I wondered why Dragon wanted you so bad, but I can definitely see it.”

The island of Toulouse was a tiny speck on the horizon. With a favorable wind at their back, they’d soon arrive at the near-hopeless battle. Kuina didn’t know what was going to happen to her once they did, and worse, she didn’t care. 

With the change in situation, Lyudmila had been relieved of babysitting duty in favor of joining the rest of the ship’s leadership in their makeshift war room. The mood of the Revolution had shifted, men and women moving with increased urgency as they sharpened weapons, prepared guns, and tried to coax every bit of speed from the brigantine, their faces drawn in grim, serious lines. Every once in a while a bark of nervous laughter would punctuate the air like cannonshot, but it was quickly hushed. Everyone knew that the situation was dire. 

Dara, whose disregard for meetings extended even when the Revolution was on the verge of defeat, had taken over Kuina-watching duty. But even her enthusiasm had its limits, and every few minutes she would look out at the approaching island, squint as if she were trying to suss out the enemy position on that tiny black speck, her knee bouncing with nervous energy. 

“Wonder what Boss will have you do,” she said absentmindedly. 

“Probably nothing,” Kuina said. “You heard her: She’s got no use for me.”

Dara snorted. “Oh, please. Compared to the trouble I got myself into when I first joined, that was nothing. It’s an, ah...learning process. Being part of a group, I mean.”

That wasn’t very reassuring, but Kuina had no desire to argue. “What the hell was that trick you did, anyway? I never saw you coming.”

“Oh, my devil fruit?” Dara said, eyes brightening. She raised an arm, and in the time it took Kuina to blink, the space from her hand to her elbow went paper thin. The change was so sudden, so utterly  _ bizarre,  _ that Kuina couldn’t help but recoil away from it. Dara laughed, and just as quickly put her arm back to rights again. 

“Flat Flat Fruit,” she explained. “Not much good for fighting, but sneaking around? Easy-breezy.”

“Just how many devil fruit users are on this ship?” Kuina asked. 

“Right now? I don’t know everyone on Betty’s crew, but I think it’s just three. Once we hook up the rest of the crew there’ll be a couple more to show you.” Another squinting look at the horizon, more bouncing of her knee. 

There was a comfortable lull in the conversation while Kuina massaged her aching head. A gull screeched overhead, making at least one Revolutionary jump. The moment quickly passed, and Dara slapped her palms against her thighs. “Well, I need to get ready. You just brought that backpack with you, right? You don’t have any armor or anything to put on, just in case?”

Just her mask. Kuina lugged herself to her feet and followed Dara belowdecks. For the first time, no one was paying attention to her, the Revolutionaries too busy with their own preparations. Kuina was glad to be invisible once more. Despite Dara’s reassurances, shame coiled around her belly, constricting like a snake squeezing the life out of its latest meal. It was impossible to walk with her head held high after her disgraceful performance. De Gris’s voice echoed in her mind, conflating with the voice of countless others she’d heard since childhood. The scar that drug across her chest pulsed with her head, bringing to the forefront the weakness she thought she’d long ago left behind. 

_ You aren’t worth shit. _

The words were short, concise, and painfully blunt, but they were also the truth. And for that, she had no one to blame but herself. 

They passed by Elizabeth’s little workshop on the way to their quarters. When she saw the door was open, Dara paused to poke her head inside. The assistant cook was deep at work dividing what appeared to be dozens of firecrackers into different piles. 

“Hey Lizard, got any goodies for me?” Dara asked. 

Elizabeth didn’t look up from the task in front of her. “On the back shelf.” 

Dara clasped her hands in front of her gave Elizabeth a tiny, mocking bow that was returned with a raised middle finger. 

“Gracious as always,” Dara said once she returned to Kuina’s side. “C’mon, we’re wasting daylight.”

“Is she…?”

“Our munitions expert?” Dara said. “Yes. Yes she is.” She hugged a little baggie close to her chest like it was a lover. “Her food might be garbage, but I’m pretty sure that’s because she’s testing some new long-acting poison without telling anyone.”

“I can still hear you!”

“Seems like an odd mix of jobs,” Kuina said.

Dara shrugged. “Cooking, catastrophic explosions...it’s all chemistry, really. Lizard here just happens to be better at one form more than the other. Isn’t that right, Lizard?”

Elizabeth had stormed to the doorway while she was speaking. She hardly came up to Dara’s shoulder, but she carried herself with the same energy of a lady’s lap dog that thought itself a wolf. “Go.  _ Away.  _ And stop blabbing to the stowaway. She’s not on our side.”

Dara’s grin showed entirely too many teeth. “Wanna bet?”

“I’m not a stowaway,” Kuina said at the same time. There was a pause as what Dara said sunk in, and both she and Elizabeth looked up at her with disbelief.

“You’re crazy,” Elizabeth said. “A hundred berries says she bails at the first opportunity.”

“I’ll put down five that she stays.”

“Your loss,” Elizabeth said, and she slammed the door in their face.

Dara looked for a moment like she wanted to shout something through the door but thought better of it. She put her little baggie into her pocket and said, “You better not run on me. I don’t actually have five hundred berries.”

“It was a stupid bet,” Kuina said. “I’m not joining the Revolution.”

“Maybe, maybe not. But I saw how pissed you were when the boss pulled that gun on you. You’re not going to be happy till you beat her in a fair fight, no matter how long it takes.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence, and Kuina wondered if, just maybe, she was right.


	5. Port Tolouse

Port Tolouse was on fire. Thick black smoke billowed in the air, choking Kuina’s lungs and stinging her eyes as they drew nearer to the island, the heat pulling her skin taunt. At random intervals explosions would rocket in the distance, followed seconds later by low rumbles that would carry over the ocean. 

In comparison, Belo Betty’s ship was deathly silent. As silent as a group of over a hundred sailors could be, anyway. But somehow, the random coughs and creaking wood stood out as all the more unnatural, devoid of the usual hustle and bustle of life that Kuina had grown accustomed to. Hiding behind her mask, she stayed near Dara, not willing to lose her on the crowded decks. Together they joined Elizabeth, Lyudmila, and Aria de Gris at one of the ship's lifeboats. Other groups—individual squads in Betty’s army, Kuina supposed—likewise found themselves huddled near the small vessels, but the bulk of the Revolutionaries remained right where they were. They were going to fight their way in.

If de Gris thought anything of Kuina’s presence or strange apparel, she didn’t show it. Over half the Revolutionaries Kuina saw had their faces covered in some way or other. While de Gris and Lyudmila chose not to change out of their everyday clothing, Elizabeth had a bandana tied around the bottom half of her face kept her backward ball cap low on her forehead, and Dara had spent most of their time approaching Tolouse painting her face to look like a living skull. Vibrant clothing was exchanged for a loose-fitting outfit made of greys and blacks that reminded Kuina of the stories her father told of kunoichi assassins. 

“There’s a story on my home island,” Dara had explained as she put the final touches of black to her cheeks, “of a death god who steals the shadows of the wicked and weaves them into a fine cloak, leaving them to whither to dust in the sun.” Her skeletal grin widened. “Who am I to deny these bastards the opportunity to see the face of god before they die?”

She had paused then, as if waiting for Kuina to tell the story behind the blue and red oni mask, but as far as Kuina knew there wasn’t any. It was just something her father had hanging on his wall that she had taken on a whim, something the swordsmen of the old country wore into battle, just as she prepared to do now. Kuina could only shrug and follow her above decks, waiting for their next orders.

“Is everyone ready to depart? Chances are we won’t be able to come back for a second trip,” de Gris said in a low tone. She eyed each of them critically, gaze lingering on Kuina a shade longer than the rest. Kuina shrugged her backpack higher on her shoulders in response, all her worldly possessions contained within. De Gris nodded once sharply to herself, as if confirming a fact she already knew. 

“Alright. First objective is to meet up with the rest of the crew and see what shape our boat’s in. We still haven’t been able to reinstate communications, but our job will be a hell of a lot easier if the enemy doesn’t know where we’re at. Dara?” she asked. 

“Ready, Boss.”

“We leave once Betty gives the signal.”

Before Kuina could ask what that signal was, Belo Betty emerged from belowdecks. Revolutionaries parted before her as if she were a drop of water in a quart of oil as she strode to the raised quarterdeck, voluminous skirts billowing regally behind her. She moved with such grace Kuina wouldn’t have been surprised if she were floating on air, and didn’t flinch as a cannonball fell just short of the ship, splashing harmlessly into the water. It was the first attack, and in the haze Kuina couldn’t tell if it came from land or sea. 

Acting as the Revolutionary’s herald, Belo Betty stood with a familiar red and black flag in hand. It was much bigger than the one she’d used against Kuina, and the sight of it made her sick. Betty slammed the ferruled end against the deck as if she were trying to stake the blunted metal into the thick wood. The resulting silence was deafening.

A moment passed as Betty appraised the resolute faces of the men and women under her command. Then another, and another. Then suddenly, Belo Betty thrust the flag into the air and shouted, “ _ For freedom! _ ” 

The Revolution  _ roared _ . Kuina barely turned her back in time before Betty swept the blood-red field in front of her. Without being able to actually see the flag, the effect of her devil fruit was dampened, but Kuina could still  _ feel  _ the effect it had on everyone around her. Gooseflesh went up and down her arms as an unnatural electricity sparked from person to person, spreading like a deadly contagion across the decks. 

Kuina had wondered why the entirety of the Revolution’s fighting force gathered together in one place making themselves vulnerable to enemy attack, and now she knew. Less disciplined soldiers worked themselves into a frenzy, their hysteria so great they had to be held back to prevent them from jumping into the sea with the intent of  _ swimming  _ their way to Tolouse. Some beat their rifle butts against the decks in savage rhythm, others screamed war cries or shouted profanities at the enemy. 

But most seemed used to the flag’s intoxicating effects. In a way, they were more intimidating than their less-disciplined brethren, maintaining rank and awaiting orders while the blood boiled in their veins, whole-hearted desire for war mixed with the soundness of mind to do so effectively. Kuina could even sense it in her small group--the quickening of their heartbeat, nostrils flaring as their breathing deepened, pupils blown wide-open in punch-drunk anticipation. 

“Alright, ladies. That’s our cue,” de Gris said. A tight, savage grin belied the calmness in her voice. Her naked sword gleamed in the sun. “Mila, Kuina, you’re on rowing duty. Elizabeth you stay back, and Dara you take middle.”

No one had said anything about rowing, but Kuina didn’t argue. Though the lifeboat could easily have seated over a dozen people they remained clustered in a diamond formation, with Kuina, Lyudmila, Elizabeth, and de Gris forming the four points and Dara square in the center. As soon as they were boarded they were quickly lowered into the sea, hidden from the shore by the broad side of the brigantine. 

“Sorry, but I need to touch you for this to work,” Dara said, grabbing a hold of Kuina’s backpack. Her other hand wrapped around Lyudmila’s shirt sleeve, while a still-standing de Gris lay a hand on her head and Elizabeth had a fist full of the back of her shirt. “And if you need to puke, try not to get any on me.”

Without giving Kuina any time to question what she’d just said, Dara activated her devil fruit. With a sickening lurch that made Kuina feel like she was a metal wire being stretched through a drawing hole she, her four companions, and their little boat they were sitting in was laying flush with the water, all-but-invisible from the shore.

Behind her, Elizabeth retched, loudly and copiously into the back of the lifeboat. Dara sighed. 

“And this is why she never gets rowing duty.”

Kuina decided right then and there that devil fruits were not meant to be understood, only accepted. After recovering from the initial shock of suddenly existing in two dimensions instead of three, Kuina nearly threw herself into a panic thinking that Betty’s ability had made the Revolutionaries collectively go mad, and that the tiniest wave was going to capsize their boat.

Except, somehow, it didn’t. Despite their flatness, the lifeboat still had gunwales. There still, somehow, was depth, because Kuina could discern that de Gris was standing above them and that her feet were firmly planted below. It made no sense, and trying to wrap her mind around it only raised more questions Kuina couldn’t answer. 

“Don’t just sit there, girl,” de Gris hissed. “ _ Row. _ And keep those oars as close to the water as possible.”

Hastily Kuina did as she was told, trying her best to ignore her paper-thin arms by focusing on her oar. It, at least, was somewhat flat under ordinary circumstances and didn’t look quite as unnatural as the rest of them as it skimmed across the surface of the sea. Behind her, Elizabeth groaned. 

“How far?” 

“We need to get behind the first line of defenses.” De Gris scanned the sea and pointed to a jetty farther up the coast. “There. Betty will draw the majority of the fire away from our position, and once we ground we can hit them from behind and hopefully give her a chance to land her people.”

“Strange that communications haven’t opened,” Dara said. 

De Gris hid her scowl behind a hand as she lit a cigarette. “Whole turn of events is strange. I don’t like that we’re walking in blind, so stay sharp. Something is very wrong here.”

“Besides the fact that everything’s on fire?” Elizabeth said before being overtaken by a harsh, brassy cough. “What sort of king does that to his own people?”

As they drew closer to the jetty, Kuina could hear the alarm of fire brigades over the sounds of fighting, but it seemed like a lost cause. The cityfront nearest the docks was already a blackened ruin, the greedy flames having moved on in search of more fuel, carried by the favorable wind that had brought the Revolutionary Army so quickly east. Whatever they were fighting over was already gone. 

De Gris stared resolutely ahead, her eyes never leaving the flickering red-orange skyline. “I’m not so sure he did.”

* * *

There was no practical way for Dara to maintain her power once they reached the jetty. They quickly disembarked, and it fell upon Kuina and Lyudmila to secure the line while the rest hurried to cover. Smoky haze mixed with mist rolling off of the sea, obscuring them from any eyes that might have strayed from Betty’s distraction. 

Kuina’s teeth were already on edge when Lyudmila paused to peer at Kuina through her thick glasses. There was a faint, perplexed expression on her face. “What will you do once the fighting starts?”

“You’re really going to ask me this  _ now? _ ” Kuina asked. “I told your boss already: A swordsman pays their debts. Nothing good would have happened to me if I’d stayed at Lougetown. Even if I think you all are a bunch of two-faced bastards, I owe you for getting me out.”

“You would fight for the people you hate.”

It wasn’t a question, and something about her tone made Kuina want to squirm. She finished the last knot, and together they hurried to join the others. “Hate’s a strong word. Most of you have been...hospitable. We just see things differently. You know, on an organizational level. I mean, you haven’t tried to shoot me even  _ once _ . I’m almost insulted.”

For the first time since they had met, Lyudmila smiled. Like all of her expressions, it was barely noticeable, a twitch at the corner of her mouth that was gone almost before it had arrived. “Even if we are a bunch of two-faced bastards?”

“The way I see it, most people have a little bit of bastard in them, myself included” Kuina said with a shrug. They ducked into the hollow of a burnt out warehouse where de Gris waited less-than-patiently, bloody sword in hand and a pair of guardsmen laying dead at her feet. “Some just happen to have more than others.” 

Lyudmila made a noise that was suspiciously like a laugh, and Kuina didn’t miss the questioning look de Gris shot her way, or the subtle nod she gave in return They were still watching her, testing her fragile allegiance. 

Kuina’s pride rankled that they thought she might break her word, but she looked away and pretended that she hadn’t noticed the exchange. There were more important things at hand. 

Like the fact that Port Tolouse was on fire.

“I’ve already sent Dara ahead to start wreaking havoc along their cannoneers,” de Gris said. “Mila, I want you to find someplace high where you can start harassing the enemy. I remember there being a belltower at the square that looked like it would offer a pretty good view.”

“Could be conspicuous,” Lyudmia said. 

“Right.” de Gris lit a cigarette. “I leave it to your discretion. You got a mini on you?”

Lyudmila held up her wrist, where a baby den-den mushi slept. 

“Don’t how good your signal’s going to be, but I want to know what’s going on at sky level. Don’t worry about being overheard, Trini set me up with a ghost before we left.”

Lyudmila nodded once sharply, and disappeared into the street. Kuina and Elizabeth shared an uneasy glance as de Gris turned her attention to them, frowning around her cigarette like she didn’t quite know what to do with the last two members of her team.

“We need to rendezvous with the troops we left behind and find out what the hell’s jamming our snails,” she said finally. “Last report had them dug in in the Oldtown neighborhood, but with the fires that could have changed.”

“I thought we were backing up Betty,” Kuina said.

“We have. Any enemy ship that gets close enough to board is going to have Betty’s devil fruit to contend with, and neutralizing the land-based defenses will allow them to land safely on the island. The greatest threat to our people is the fact we can’t talk to one another.”

More arguments spring to the tip of her tongue, but Kuina bit them back. If de Gris thought sending one person to take out some cannons was all that was needed for Belo Betty to dock safely, that was her problem. She was obviously confident in Dara’s ability, and the unbidden memory of the other girl’s opinions on the quality of East Blue wars compared to the Grand Line swirled in Kuina’s mind. 

Then she remembered how Dara had managed to sneak behind her without notice and wondered if maybe she hadn’t had a point. 

“I’ve never heard of anything that can block a den-den mushi signal before,” Elizabeth said slowly, interrupting Kuina’s thoughts. “Do you think it’s some new World Government tech?”

“Probably. More important question is why deploy it  _ here _ , in the asscrack of the East Blue?” A shadow flashed over de Gris’s face, something dark and ugly fighting its way to the surface. She turned her back to both Elizabeth and Kuina. “We’re wasting time. Weapons out, ladies. Where we’re going, things are going to be hot.”

Kuina drew her sword and followed her out of the ruined warehouse, mulling over her question. Because of its relative peacefulness, marines and Government agencies in the East Blue were notoriously underfunded. Military compounds received less money for training, research, and development. Its Cipher Pol branches had fewest agents in the entire world. Anyone with even a modicum of talent was poached by divisions in the Grand Line that offered incentives that made the more dangerous placements desirable. She had spent enough time working within the judicial system to hear sailors complain about their meagre salaries and how bounty hunters like her stole all the glory of the hunt, while they spent their lives wasting away at thankless tasks. 

But the truth of the matter was it was cheaper for the Government to give a one time handout of a few thousand berries to a headhunter than it was to feed, equip, and pay a full-time naval recruit. As long as the number of pirates in the East Blue was manageable, the penny pinchers at Mariejois weren’t likely to change the annual budget anytime soon.

So what  _ was  _ Grand Line tech doing out in the East Blue?

They skulked deeper into the city, stepping over mounds of rubble and skeletonized buildings. To Kuina, the destruction seemed greater than a mere fire—it looked like a bomb had gone off. The streets were littered with the broken glass of a thousand shattered windows, the streets pockmarked and smoldering, grey smoke making the air shimmer and haze. A terrible stench rose from the city, testing Kuina’s intestinal fortitude, and making Elizabeth have to stop once more to retch.

Then they turned a corner, and somehow it got worse.

There, in out in the open, were the bodies of the dead stacked into piles, bloated and rotting in the midday sun. They lay in front of a mangled corpse that had been nailed high on a surviving concrete wall like a martyred prophet of some terrible deity. Even at a distance Kuina could see the melted gold encircling the forehead of the displayed body. Written below the remains in red letters a foot high was the message:  _ Death to tyrants.  _

“Is that...Is that their  _ king? _ ” Elizabeth gasped. 

Cautiously de Gris approached, not caring that her two subordinates stayed well back. With clinical detachment she made a quick study of the bodies before turning her attention squarely to the crucified corpse. 

The desecration of the dead left Kuina horrified and numb, and she had to turn away. She wasn’t naive enough to be ignorant of the horrors of war. She herself had killed dozens of men, and sent dozens more to their deaths. But there was no honor or glory in such mutilation. Kuina doubted most of them were even combatants. No one with a shred of warrior’s pride would condone the slaughtering of innocents. 

Beside her, Elizabeth seemed equally perturbed. Between her hat and bandanna it was impossible to gauge her expression, but her hands twitched spastically as she stood rooted in place. Her eyes never left the bodies, and every few seconds she would make a strangled noise, as if trying to speak, but was unable to form any coherent sentences. 

“Can’t stomach your own dirty work?” Kuina muttered.

Elizabeth swung toward her. “You think  _ we _ —”

In the distance, Kuina heard the soft  _ click  _ of a hammer being pulled back. She moved on instinct, grabbing the front of Elizabeth’s shirt and pulling her to the ground. Her indignant yelp was drowned out by the crack of a pistol shot striking the rubble behind them, followed by a second and a third, sending up a cloud of dust where they had been standing just a moment ago. 

Belatedly, Kuina remembered that Elizabeth was carrying bombs. An entire backpack full of highly flammable, explosive, _homemade_ bombs of questionable quality. Twisting as they fell, she cushioned the smaller woman from the brunt of the impact with her own body. As soon as they hit the ground Kuina rolled on top of her so an errant shot couldn’t set off an explosion that would blow them all to pieces. 

At the first shot de Gris whipped from the body of the king, firing her pistol once in the direction of a hollowed out factory. For a moment Kuina didn’t move, but no further shots came. 

“ _ Geooff, _ ” Elizabeth said, her voice muffled. Slowly Kuina obliged, scanning for more enemies with her sword in hand as the other woman struggled to her feet.

“Out of the street,” de Gris barked. “We’re sitting ducks out here in the open.”

Hurriedly, they did as she said, hiding behind the cover of charred beams of timber and mounds of rock and rubble. There were more bodies, more splashes of rusty red, but these it seemed had been left undisturbed. If there were any survivors, they didn’t stay long enough to find them.

After a minute or so of silence, Elizabeth said bluntly, “You’re bleeding.”

“Huh?” Kuina looked down, and sure enough, she had cut through the sleeve of her jacket, causing blood to trickle from the back of her arm. She hadn’t even noticed the wound, but now that she did it began to sting, not deep enough to cause any real concern. “Must have been all that glass.”

“Bind it,” de Gris ordered. “Don’t give the enemy anything to track.”

Before Kuina could do as she said, Elizabeth was by her side with a roll of linen bandages taken from her bag. Wordlessly Kuina rolled up her sleeve and let her wrap the wound with shaking hands. Elizabeth took a moment to judge her handiwork, nodding once sharply to herself, before looking up at Kuina. There was no word of thanks shared between either of them, but Kuina thought for the first time Elizabeth saw her for who she really was, instead of some random stowaway brat she happened to be traveling with.

“That wasn’t our work back there,” she muttered, before looking questioningly at de Gris. “Was it?”

Aria de Gris pulled a small metal disk from the inside of her coat, holding it up for inspection. The silver metal was scorched black and warped after exposure to extreme heat, but Kuina thought she could see the faintest outline of an insignia etched upon it.

“That’s Callen’s mark,” she said, before adding for Kuina’s benefit, “he’s the one Betty put in charge while she was gone.”

“So he’s dead,” Elizabeth said.

“Not necessarily. It’s possible someone got ahold of his uniform, just like it’s possible that man wasn’t the king.” de Gris tucked the metal back into her pocket. “That message was made to look like it was written in blood, but wasn’t. Someone has gone out of their way to make the Revolution look like butchers. Wholesale destruction like this benefits no one—no sane ruler destroys the economic center of their country without exhausting every other option available to him, even when attacked by outside forces. Tolouse won’t be blamed for the fires.”

“We had their king captured anyway. Someone else must have ordered the bombardment.” Elizabeth said. “The marines, maybe? I haven’t seen any of their ships.”

De Gris shook her head. “The local marine base has been tied up with unrest on the Venn Islands and pirate raids to the north. They shouldn’t have the manpower available to overthrow the Army once we dug in, especially with civilian support. That’s why Betty decided to attack now in the first place.”

“Then who—?”

De Gris held a hand up for silence. Kuina’s grip around her sword tightened, but she didn’t hear anyone approach. Beside her Elizabeth slunk closer to the wall, hands more twitchy then ever. 

Suddenly de Gris’s head shot up, and a moment later Kuina sensed the presence of someone above. She moved to strike, but de Gris’s hand clasped against her wrist, her grip like iron. 

“You found someone to replace me already, Captain?”

Elizabeth yelped as a head popped over the edge of the roof, face smeared with grime and dirt looking down at them, a dozen braids swaying lazily in the breeze. With a laugh, she flipped down beside them, landing lightly on her feet.

She was a dark-skinned woman of about twenty, with the compact, powerful figure of a gymnast. A short spear was strapped to her back, the only weapon on her person. She gave an appraising glance at Kuina and grinned. “Nice mask.”

Kuina nodded, not having the slightest idea what was going on. The woman acknowledged it and turned back to where Elizabeth was half-cowering behind Aria de Gris, lazy grin growing even wider at the sight of her. “How’s the weather down there?”

“Fuck you.”

“It’s good to see you, too, Liz.”

“Enough,” de Gris said, stepping between them. “How did you find us?”

The woman shrugged. “The Army saw Betty’s ship sailing into port and sent a group of us to make sure she made it in okay. I happened to see Dara doing her thing with the cannons, and she told me what direction to go in from there. I heard the shots by the massacre site and figured it was probably you.” She jutted a thumb in Kuina’s general direction. “Who’s the new kid? Did you pick up another stray?”

“Less ‘picked up’ and more ‘had foisted upon’,” de Gris said. She let out a stream of cigarette smoke to cover her sigh. “Camille, meet Kuina. Kuina, Camille Salyor. And now with those pleasantries out of the way, would you kindly tell us what the hell is going on on this island? Where’s the rest of the crew?”

Camille grin faded. Now that the surprise had faded and Kuina had gotten a better look, she noticed that it wasn’t just Camille’s face that was dirty. Her shirt, which looked to have been white at one time, was stained a uniform greyish color, marred by scorch marks and accented by darker splashes of dried blood. There was an ingrained smell of smoke that cut through the acrid city air, and despite her cheerful air her eyes were bloodshot and tired. 

“They baited us, Captain,” Camille said. “They let us take the city, feigned weakness until Dragon left, then  _ bam! _ ” She punched a fist into her open palm for emphasis. In the distance was the rumble of cannonfire, causing Camille to anxiously look skyward.

“I need to get you to Oldtown,” she said. “Come on.”

De Gris let her take lead, and together they left their meagre cover. Kuina followed last of all, not sure what she was supposed to think or how she was supposed to feel. It was clear the Revolution was just as shocked and appalled as she was by the devastation, but did that mean that they weren’t the ultimate cause? De Gris said herself that no sane king would set fire to his own country, and no army would string up their own nobility for all the world to see. With the navy occupied elsewhere, who did that leave? And what, if anything, did the metal de Gris found prove?

Instincts honed by a decade hiding in the shadows told Kuina to run and never look back. This was not her war, and the citizens of Tolouse were not her people. She couldn’t become the world’s greatest swordsman if she got herself killed in some backwater East Blue town no one had ever heard of. 

The rest of her, the part that was stubborn and bullheaded enough to defy her father’s wishes to continue her path as a swordsman, needed to find out who was responsible. What she would do with that information...Kuina didn’t yet know. But there was a pile of unavenged souls howling in the back of her mind, men and women who she’d never met, but could never forget.

They had walked maybe a quarter of a mile dodging patrols in military garb and guardsmen when Camille suddenly stopped. With a quick glance to make sure they weren’t being watched, she walked to the edge of the street and kicked in a sewer grate. Without a second thought, she jumped inside. 

Beside Kuina, Elizabeth blanched. “You can’t be serious…”

But obviously she was. Pausing only to douse her cigarette de Gris followed, leaving Kuina and Elizabeth looking down into the darkness. They shared a skeptical look, Elizabeth saying what they were both thinking:

“Well fuck.”

Without any further complaint, she clambered down into the hole, Kuina following shortly behind, taking care to replace the grate. The sewer wasn’t high enough for any of them except Elizabeth to stand upright, and the only light came from the grates and the meagre flame of de Gris’s lighter. Filthy water came up over the tops of Kuina’s boots, and for the first time she was grateful that they were waterproofed. 

“The trouble started almost right after you left,” Camille said in a low voice. “We received a message that the army had arrested prominent members of the dockworker’s union as suspected traitors for helping the rebellion, and unless we came willing to trade the king they would start executing people.”

De Gris grunted, “They weren’t wrong. Betty said her first contacts came through the unions, and the dockworkers were how she stockpiled supplies. But a king for some laborers isn’t exactly a fair trade.”

“That’s what we thought, but there was no harm in trying to negotiate a better deal, or at least that’s what Callen thought. He took a group to parlay with the army, and decided to bring the king along as a sign of good faith—”

“ _ Idiot, _ ” de Gris said under her breath. 

“—and that’s when someone decided to just bomb...everyone. Us, the general negotiating for the army, the bloody  _ king _ ...the whole block, just up in smoke.” Camille shook her head. “I knew it was a bad omen when the wind shifted. Felt like the air before a Grand Line squall, I knew they wouldn’t be able to put out the fires.”

“Sounds like a firestorm. No wonder the whole city’s gone to hell,” de Gris said. “I take it that’s when they cut communications?”

“Yes, and by the time we were able to organize, rumor had spread that  _ we  _ were the ones to start the bombings. We’ve been fighting the citizens who oppose us, trying to evacuate the ones who believe, keep the fires down, and delay the army all at once. It’s like...it’s like they know what we’re doing before it happens. They’ve anticipated all our moves and had counters ready before we have even decided a course of action.”

De Gris mulled over her words. “The king wasn’t popular. Do you think Tolouse officials did it?”

Camille looked up at her captain helplessly and shrugged. “At this point, I’m not sure what to believe.”

* * *

They emerged from the sewers into chaos. The streets of Oldtown bustled with activity from Revolutionaries and civilians alike. It lived up to its name well, ramshackle old buildings pressed together between too-narrow streets, with shacks and shops squeezed in wherever there was room. Dogs, chickens, and pigs roamed freely, rooting through piles of trash for food. Many of the children Kuina saw went barefoot.

The smell of smoke was stronger here, but it seemed that the combined efforts of the Revolution and their allies had fought back the worst of it. The dividing lines were clearly marked—streets blocked by barricades of furniture and debris cut Oldtown off from the rest of the city, the army on one side and the Revolution on the other. The only safe way in or out was through the sewers. With the help of urchins and criminals who knew those waterways as well as they did the streets above, the Revolutionary Army had managed to defend them well enough to make any government force think twice about using them for an attempted sneak attack. Not when it was easier to simply starve them out.

De Gris was immediately summoned by Revolutionary leadership, leaving the rest of the group to their own devices. For a brief moment Kuina realized she was free. Without de Gris’s sword or Lyudmila’s crossbow hanging overhead, there was nothing to keep her from fleeing. It would be child’s play to get lost in the chaos and leave the Revolution behind her once and for all. 

Kuina was immediately ashamed of herself for even considering such a thought. A true swordsman didn’t break a promise freely given, no matter how distasteful they found it to be. She wouldn’t tarish her honor by running now.

Besides, everything about Tolouse stunk like two-day old fish left out in the sun. If she hadn’t seen it with her own two eyes, she wouldn’t have believed the mass of destruction had been done by anyone other than the Revolutionary Army. But seeing their surprise firsthand, and how hard they worked to protect a city that at this point mostly wanted them dead, was something she couldn’t ignore. 

It was an uncomfortable thought that distracted from the task at hand. Kuina almost didn’t notice Elizabeth and Camille whispering fiercely to one another. Shaking her head a little to clear it, Kuina edged closer so she could hear what they were saying.

“You’re going back out there?” Elizabeth said. “ _ Now? _ ”

“It’s not that bad, Liz. If this were the Grand Line, we’d be done for by now, but these are still East Blue troops, and bad ones at that. I’ll be fine.”

“If they’re so bad why are we getting our ass kicked?” she spat back.

Camille didn’t have an answer for that. “Look, the rest of the crew is hanging out at the market, I’m sure the captain will go looking there after leadership is done talking with her. I’ll be back with Dara by sunset, but I’m  _ not  _ going to let myself be trapped in some prison made of stone and wood when there’s fighting to be done.”

“I can fight,” Kuina said. 

The both looked up at Kuina as if just remembering she was there. “I like your spirit, friend, but I’m not going to take responsibility for the life of someone I’ve literally just met,” Camille said with a weary smile. “Besides, I’m pretty sure Captain would literally murder me, and I enjoy living too much to take that risk.”

“She’s pretty good with that pig sticker of hers,” Elizabeth admitted grudgingly.

“All the more reason to stay in case Tolouse forces try something underhanded. And if not, you’ll be fresh for when the fun starts tonight.”

“What’s happening tonight?” Kuina asked.

Camille shrugged. “No idea, but I’m sure the captain and Commander Belo will come up with something fun. It’s not in their natures to take a defeat like this quietly.”

With a quick wave, she bounded back to the sewers. After a moment, Elizabeth sighed and turned away. “Boss is going to be  _ pissed _ . C’mon, let’s go make ourselves useful.”

They pushed their way through the crowded streets. It was shocking how many people were out in the street. Despite everything that was happening, people still needed to get food and find water. Men and women hauled chunks of wood and rock to add to the barricades, or stockpiled ammunition while children circled underfoot playing games and running errands. Shops were open for business, often bartering with goods instead of money. Hanging at the edges more predatory thieves and criminals hovered like vultures, waiting for a chance to swoop in. 

There were hollow-eyed men in bandages, disabled beggars holding their hands out for charity no one could afford. Women whose clothes were stained in blood and screaming children separated from their parents.

The injured grew in number the closer they got to the market—a massive open air structure of wooden columns supporting a tin roof. Some were laid out in the street, their feeble moans echoing through the air and making Kuina shudder. 

“I hate this,” Elizabeth muttered. She seemed to shrink in on herself, hiding her tiny frame in her oversized coat like some sort of turtle. 

“Hate it?” Kuina said. “Isn’t this what you people  _ do? _ ”

“Not us. Not de Gris.” She shrugged her backpack higher on her shoulder. “We’re more of a...I don’t know...strike force, I guess. Get in, do a job, and get out. We don’t work much with the regular army. We don’t have enough people for that.”

“And what was your job here?” Kuina asked, curious.

“Capture the king. If our ship hadn’t been damaged, we would have stuck around for all this.”

Elizabeth kicked a piece of rubble for emphasis. It bounced across the threshold of the market, and they both came to a slow stop. Individual shops and stalls had been cleared out and been replaced with dozens upon dozens of cots upon which the injured lay. A handful of men and women went from bed to bed with stethoscopes or bandages or little cupfulls of water. The smell of blood and death and burnt flesh radiated outward. Kuina could taste it in the back of her throat every time she took a breath. 

One of the women making rounds caught sight of them. Her eyes lit up in recognition and she carefully made her way over. Kuina looked down at Elizabeth questioningly, and she said, “That’s Clara. She’s our ship’s doctor.”

Clara was a heavy set woman of about thirty-five with a wide, guileless face that seemed made for smiling. Her most striking feature was a head full of bright copper hair she had tied back in a short tail. Despite wearing surgeon’s robes that were smattered with blood and gore that was not her own, she somehow managed to look delighted at the sight of Elizabeth. 

“Welcome back! Oh, you have no idea how much I wish I could give you a great, big hug right now. How are you doing? Where are the others? Oh, bless my soul, I’ve forgotten my manners,” she exclaimed, turning to Kuina. “My name’s Clara Cross, it’s so good to meet you. Are you traveling with Aria or Betty? Have you been hurt? I could—”

“I’m fine, thank you, Doctor,” Kuina said, taken aback by her determined cheerfulness. “And, um. My name’s Kuina.”

“She’s with us,” Elizabeth added. At the prospect of being hugged she had taken a large step backward. “As for the rest—”

“Dr. Cross, we need you!” a man shouted from the other side of the market. “Jal’s hemorrhaging and we can’t get it to stop!”

Clara’s head snapped to attention. “I beg your pardon, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“How can we help?” Kuina asked, feeling suddenly help _ less _ at all the pain and destruction that surrounded her. But Clara either didn’t hear the question or chose to ignore it as she hurried back into the makeshift hospital. Beside her, Elizabeth seemed equally lost. 

“I fucking hate this.”

And at that moment, Kuina couldn’t blame her.

* * *

Kuina quickly realized that the worst thing about war was waiting. Waiting for the fight. Waiting for news. Waiting for orders. She had been on Tolouse for only a few hours, and she was sick of it. Elizabeth was at least able to be  _ useful _ , handing out her stock of explosives like they were candy and ushered away to where she could make more. As members of Belo Betty’s ship trickled past the barricade in twos and threes, word got out that Kuina was not actually a Revolutionary. Because she was not one of theirs, the Army wanted nothing to do with her, and the locals shunned her for the same reason. 

Her hands itched for the chance to fight, to take her frustrated, impotent energy on someone who truly deserved it, but at this point Kuina had no idea who that was. And without solid proof one way or the other, she was stripped of her most useful skill when it was needed most.

In the hospital tent, at least, no one cared who Kuina was or where her allegiances lay. She knew nothing of medicine past basic first aid, but that was enough for Clara to put her to work fetching water, washing soiled linens, seeing to minor wounds so the limited medical personnel could focus on the more seriously injured. 

The burn patients were the worst. At least a sword killed swiftly; a burn could leave it victim in agony for days before killing them, and with pain medicine in short supply they would often feel every minute of it. 

Kuina was joined by yet another member of de Gris’s crew, a grim-faced girl who introduced herself as Danielle before asking for Kuina to call her Danny. She had the heavy, calloused hands of a workman and a  _ hachimaki  _ around her head that identified her as the shipwright who stayed behind to make repairs on the ship. With those repairs now complete, she was just as stuck as Kuina, waiting for her next job.

“Didn’t they want you building up the barricades?” Kuina asked as they went out for more water to boil. “Seems that would be a good place for a carpenter.

“You’d think, but the locals told me to get lost. Half of them blame us for what’s happened, the other half think they can do better. Last thing we need right now is more infighting, so here I am meeting my new crew mate instead.” Danny smiled down at Kuina. “You wear that mask all the time? Doesn’t it get uncomfortable?”

“I’m used to it,” Kuina said. She paused a moment as she stepped around two men arguing over the price of rice. “And I’m not really joining the crew. I’m just traveling with the Revolution until I can get to the Grand Line.”

“Smart woman.”

Kuina looked up in surprise, but Danny kept going on as if she’d made a comment about the weather. There was no bitterness or anger in her tone to indicate she regretted her own decision to join the Revolutionary Army, or any disgust that Kuina didn’t want to stick around. Only the simple statement of fact. 

_ Smart woman. _

She noticed Kuina gaping and raised an eyebrow. “Look at the hellhole we’re in. Only a crazy person would dedicate themselves to this day after day. I’d jump ship myself, but I was dumb enough to tagged for a bounty.” Danny tapped the edge of Kuina’s mask. “Shoulda wised up like you. Now I’m stuck.”

“I am...so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I made my choice of my own free will. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, but no one  _ forced  _ me. That’s more than I can say for some.”

Kuina slowed to a stop. “The Revolutionary Army forces people to join them?”

Danny snorted. “Let me put it to you like this: Do you think any of the people here can ever go back to their normal lives once this is done?” 

Given her own experience the words shouldn’t have been a surprise, but they somehow left Kuina dumbstruck. All around her were hundreds, if not _thousands_ of men, women, and children. Most were not actively fighting. Most had been trapped by the barricades and the fires. Most had not wanted...this.

Even if the Revolution was somehow victorious, what did their futures hold? Even if they could fight back against the Justice of the World Government, the rest of the city were turned against them.

It would be a bloodbath.

Calling back behind her as she walked back to the hospital tent, Danny said, her voice a dire warning, 

“Be careful they don’t get you, too.”


	6. A Life for a Life

“It goes like this.”

Danny and Kuina exited the canteen line each with a bowl of rice and limp vegetables. They’d had to wait nearly an hour for even that, the Revolution carefully rationing the stores they’d raided from Tolouse’s granaries in the short time they were in control of the city. Danny claimed they had enough for at least a week of fighting, longer, perhaps, if the situation grew truly dire. Kuina couldn’t help but wonder how many of the men and women of Tolouse were allied with the Revolution simply because they filled their bellies, and how many would turn against them as their supplies dwindled. 

Together, Kuina and Danny found a quiet corner and crouched down in the shadows to eat. It felt criminal, but Kuina was hungry, and she didn’t want the others to hear that she was grilling the one member of de Gris’s crew she could trust to be honest with her.

“Aria came from some Grand Line island or other known for its fencers,” Danny said in a low tone. She was just as eager to be left alone as Kuina, and perfectly happy to share the information she knew. “I heard her mother ran one of the more successful ones before she was killed in a pirate attack. It was after that Aria joined the marines.”

“ _I knew it!_ ” Kuina said triumphantly. That damn coat never lied.

Danny looked at her askance, before chuckling wrly to herself. “She’s not the only one. Lyudmila was a marine, too, though not near as distinguished. When Aria left she took her ship with her, the _Lady Valor._ It made quite the stir at the time, I remember my parents reading about it in the paper. Of course, that was before I joined the Revolution,” she added, somewhat bitterly.

They paused as a Revolutionary wearing a tiger mask walked past. Kuina ate a few spoonfuls in silence, unwilling to admit she didn’t trust the Government-controlled news, nor care enough about world events, to bother with the paper. But before Danny had a chance to continue, the question burning at the end of her tongue spilled out. “ _Lady Valor…_ That’s something I don’t understand. Why are all her subordinates women? Doesn’t that make you conspicuous when you go from port to port? It’s not like there are _that_ many lady sailors in the world.”

Kuina was half-afraid the other woman would laugh, or at least chastise her, but Danny simply took another bite of rice. “If I understand correctly—and mind you I heard all this second-hand; Boss gets real persnickety when asked—Aria sailed for a time under Vice Admiral Tsuru. She’s pretty famous for having an all female squadron on the Grand Line, so I guess that’s where she picked it up. But her whole crew isn’t women.”

“Just the important ones,” Kuina said, not sure if she was making a statement or asking a question. 

“More or less,” Danny agreed.

Kuina scowled down in the general direction of her shoes. “That is so _weird_.”

“Aria has an eye for finding talent, no matter where that talent comes from,” Danny said. “There are a lot of men out there who wouldn’t even see people like us, let alone think to recruit us for the Revolution, no matter how talented we are. I mean, Dara was a street thief before Aria picked her up, and now she’s one of our best spooks, Elizabeth was on the run after accidentally causing an explosion at a marine garrison...”

“What?” Kuina interjected. “ _How?_ ”

“Dust explosion with their flour supply,” Danny said. Seeing Kuina’s bug-eyed look of shock, she added hastily, “I mean, not all recruitments are that dramatic—I was only a naive apprentice stuck working under a jackass of a master when I first met her—but the point stands.” She finished the rest of her food and leaned her head back against the wall with a contented sigh. “She’s a bitch to work under sometimes, but at the time I was thankful to be free.”

“And now?”

Danny shrugged. “The Revolution isn’t for everyone. I think the next time we stop off at a base I’ll request to stay behind. Just build and fix ships, without having to worry about all this.” She gestured broadly to the streets of Tolouse. 

“You can do that?” Kuina asked, surprised. “Just...ask not to fight any more?”

“Oh, sure. The Revolution is nothing about giving people the freedom of choice,” Danny said. “In fact, Aria’s crew rotates pretty frequently depending on what job she’s working on. Before you came along, Elizabeth was newest. She’s still pretty hopeless when it comes to fighting and sailcraft, so I think she’ll transfer to HQ one of these days to work on making weapons full time. Lyudmila is pretty much the only constant, but then again they left the marines together, so that’s not that a big of a surprise.”

Kuina squinted at her suspiciously. “Do you know everything about everyone?”

Danny laughed. “Well, I haven’t heard much about you. What’s your story? No, wait, let me guess—You’re a failed kabuki actor who accidentally swapped a prop sword for the real deal and killed the trope’s best actor, forcing you to go on the lam.”

Kuina couldn’t help it. She laughed. There was something about Danny’s flippant tone mixed with the ridiculousness of what she’d said that broke something within her. The tension that had been building within her since Loguetown eased from Kuina’s shoulders, and despite the smoky air, she could actually _breathe._

The weak attempt at a joke wasn’t even funny. If anything, the truth that she’d revealed her face to a marine who might as well be her twin was even more ridiculous. But Kuina laughed until she cried, not caring if the people who walked past thought she was crazy, or that she’d spent her morning witnessing the aftermath of a massacre and her afternoon trying to comfort the hurt and dying. 

It was infectious. Danny held back as long as she could, but soon her shoulders were shaking as she tried unsuccessfully to suppress giggles of her own. Each errant snort or cackle made the cycle start anew, each feeding into the other until their energy was spent and they were sprawled out in the street like a pair of drunks. 

“That’s good. No matter what happens, you can’t forget how to laugh,” Danny said as she tried to catch her breath. 

“What are you now, a sage?” Kuina asked. 

“Maybe,” she said mysteriously, before falling into another fit of giggles. When she finally got herself under control, she pushed herself upright. “You never did answer the question, by the way. What _are_ you doing here if you’re not a part of the Revolution?”

“I’m…”

“There you are.”

The shadow of Aria de Gris fell over them. The sun was sinking fast, the last rays of light skimming over the top of the barricades to shroud her in a celestial glow. Kuina suddenly felt very small and very foolish, and chided herself for being caught off guard. Hastily she got to her feet, settling her mask back over her face. 

“Come on,” de Gris said, seemingly unaware of how her very presence sucked what little joy and happiness Kuina had found since leaving Loguetown. “I’ve got a job for the both of you.”

They were led inside a tiny seamstress’s shop. What little space that was available was crowded by shelves full of vibrant bolts of fabric, while spools of thread organized by color hung on racks next to mannequins draped with half-finished dresses. At the back of the shop a table had been swept away of cutting boards, material, sewing machines, and needles, dominated instead by a large map of the city. 

Spooled bobbins, blue thread indicating the position of the Revolutionaries and red the Tolouse army, had been set down marking their respective positions. Kuina was no master strategist, but it seemed to her that there was a lot more red than blue. She squeezed in a small space between Danny and Dara, who had beaten them to the meeting, glad to be next to the two members of de Gris’s crew she was most familiar with.

“Alright, ladies. I know it’s been a hell of a day already, but we’ve received new orders,” de Gris said once everyone was settled. She rested her hands against the table, staring down at the bobbins as if a glare was enough to wipe them off the face of the map. “To start with some good news, earlier today Betty was able to capture a couple ships without damaging them—one military, one merchant. Incorporating them into our plans going forward will be vital to our mission’s success.”

“I’ve seen those ships, Captain,” Camille interrupted. “They’re small, and the merchant vessel isn’t outfitted for battle. I’m not sure they’ll be of much help in a fight.”

Heads around the table nodded in unison. Of de Gris’s crewmembers Kuina had already met, only Lyudmila was missing, replaced by an old woman she had never seen before. The old woman had a stoop in her back that made her even shorter than Elizabeth and wore a pair of glasses so tiny that it was a wonder she could even see through them. She appeared to only half-listen to what de Gris was saying, concentrating more on a line of snail phones laying at the edge of the map. 

The communications expert, then. Danny had said something of her earlier, but Kuina couldn’t recall her name. Ignoring her for the moment, she turned her attention back to de Gris. 

“The surprise attack on the square and fires have cut deeply into our numbers,” Camille said. “Even with Betty’s tropes, I don’t know how we can undo the damage that’s been done. Perhaps if Dragon had stayed…”

“Dragon had his own business to attend to,” de Gris said sharply. “And we aren’t going to use those ships to attack. Betty has decided—-and I agree—-that it’s time for our squad to pull out. Reinforcements should be arriving from the Venn Islands within the week, and we’re needed elsewhere.”

A murmur of surprise rippled through the room, and de Gris continued, “Betty’s people are gathering those who wish to escape the island, and we are to help escort them to safety with a coordinated rearguard action. Those who wish to continue the liberation effort will flee from the city to an underground cave system to the north and hopefully live to fight another day.”

“You can’t just leave them.”

Aria de Gris looked up even as Kuina regretted the words that came out of her mouth, but to her immense surprise a few heads around the table bobbed in agreement. 

“We stopped them once, we can do it again,” Dara said, putting a hand on Kuina’s shoulder. Her facepaint was worse for wear, smeared in some places and scraped off entirely in others, but that didn’t put a damper on her determination. “I was out there all day, and they’re no stronger than before. They caught us by surprise. That doesn’t mean they _won._ ”

“This isn’t about winning,” de Gris said. Her voice was cold and her eyes shifted into the same ugly look they had upon arriving at Tolouse. Elizabeth, who happened to be nearest to her, took a small step to the side, until she was touching elbows with Clara Cross. 

“This isn’t about winning,” she repeated after taking a deep, cleansing breath. “Our current position is indefensible. Military reinforcements will soon arrive from outside the city, and with them is a civilian army that thinks we killed their king in cold blood. The ones Betty had been grooming to take over once we secured control were murdered when the authorities purged the unions. Even here, half the men on our side believe we set the fires that destroyed their homes and killed their loved ones. If Betty were to use her ability now, there’s a fifty-fifty chance the riots would turn on the Revolution.

“There are powers at play trying very hard to ensure that we do not claim this island. For God’s sake, use your brain,” de Gris said harshly. “Why do you think Dragon came to the East Blue? Hell, why do you think he brought _us_ to the East Blue, if he didn’t expect some sort of foul play?”

“Then why didn’t he stick around?” Elizabeth demanded. 

“Because he thought we won,” Camille said slowly, comprehension dawning as she put together what de Gris was saying. “Because we _all_ thought we won.”

“I don’t think anyone could have predicted them blowing up their king,” Clara said. 

De Gris nodded. “We’ve been had. It’s dangerous for Dragon to stay in any one place for an extended period of time, and I think our enemy realized that when planning their counterattack. If the World Government knew he was in the East Blue for weeks on end they wouldn’t hesitate to send forces after him.”

“As if the marines could defeat Dragon,” Dara snorted. 

“The collateral damage would be enormous. Would any of _you_ like to face off against a Buster Call?” She paused for effect as the faces around the table paled. “I thought not.”

Tapping a finger against the map, de Gris continued, “In any case, the Revolution doesn’t overthrow islands with the intention of taking control for ourselves. We follow the will of the people, and, unfortunately, with the stories that have been circulated island-wide, we have lost the war of public opinion. The best thing is to cut our losses and regroup for a prolonged fight elsewhere. And that fight doesn’t include us.”

She fell silent, unease settling over the crew like a lead blanket. Kuina looked down at her sword. For the most part she agreed with de Gris’s logic, but the idea of de Gris abandoning the island didn’t sit well with her. Dara and Camille’s efforts getting Betty’s people ashore safely proved that a handful of skilled fighters could turn the tide of battle. Surely the rebellion on Tolouse needed doctors, and bomb makers, and...and…

God above, she was taking their side. Kuina didn’t even have proof that their war was justified, and she wanted to stay and help them fight it. What was wrong with her? They had promised her passage to the Grand Line, she couldn’t stay here and follow her ambition at the same time.

She wondered how disappointed Zoro would be if he could see her now.

“When’s the retreat?” Danny asked, propping her head up on her chin as she looked down at the map thoughtfully.

“Tonight. I take it the _Valor_ is ready to sail?” de Gris said.

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t,” Danny said. 

“And our snails? Trini?”

The old woman blinked as she looked up. “I have attempted several frequencies across the natural spectrum den-den mushi are capable of, and each have been jammed. That means there are a large number of horned den-den mushi active, likely spread out across the city.”

“Horned den-den mushi?” Elizabeth asked. 

“A new breed of snail, dear, just developed in the last several years. Instead of sending and receiving transmissions, the horn-like protrusions on their bodies instead send bursts of white noise that overload the wavelengths the snails use to communicate. They seem to be quite contrary little creatures.”

“Seem?” de Gris said. “You’ve never handled them?”

“Until today, no.”

Trini pulled a snail from the pocket of her apron and set it on the table. It was smaller than the snail typically used for making calls, but larger than a baby den-den mushi. Two small protrusions stuck out on either side, just below the head. Twin eyestalks glared balefully up Trini, as if showing how little it appreciated being stuffed in an old woman’s pocket.

“One of the lads found him on a windowsill. Bless his heart, he brought it here not even thirty minutes ago thinking it was one of mine that had run away. As if any snail of mine would be so ornery,” Trini said. She looked back up at de Gris regretfully. “My dear, someone brought it _here_ , likely after the barricades were placed.”

“Dear God, that means…” Danny breathed. She suddenly cut herself, unable to bring herself to say aloud what the presence of enemy snails in the heart of the Revolutionary’s stronghold meant. 

“If possible, Aria, I would like more,” Trini said. “They would be invaluable to the Revolution going forward.”

“That would necessitate _finding_ the little beasts,” de Gris said, but even then a thoughtful look crossed over her face.”

“All the literature I’ve read suggests their range is limited. And, if I might add, they block _all_ signals, not just ours. Considering the dearth of homing pigeons of late, I can only assume that Tolouse’s network is working without difficulty,” Trini said. “The one time I was able to contact you while at sea, I happened to be outside the barricades. I believe that if the Revolution leaves the city entirely, communications should be restored without need for further intervention.”

“Assuming no one brings the little bastards along with them,” de Gris said, her eyes narrowed into slits. Her crew didn’t say a word as she silently fumed.

Suddenly de Gris slammed a fist against the table, throwing bobbins into the air and making the wood crack under the blow. “They’ve had us outplayed from the very beginning,” she said darkly. “Trini, go to Betty with what you’ve found. I want this hellhole scoured for any more of those snails before we move. Clara, get back to the wounded. Make it so that those who are healthy enough to travel can travel. Camille, Danny, get to the _Valor_ and make sure she’s ready for a hasty exit. Dara, there should be some scouts ensuring our path of retreat is clear, I want you to help them. Elizabeth, I want anyone who comes after the Revolution’s retreat to run into some surprises along the way. Understood?”

There were a few snapped salutes, a few more, _yes ma’ams,_ and de Gris’s crew gathered their belongings and started for the exit. Kuina alone stayed in place, closing her eyes as the Revolutionary women brushed past her to leave. Someone clasped their hand on her shoulder, but her thoughts were too jumbled to try and figure out who. 

In seconds she was alone with de Gris. Slowly Kuina opened her eyes, but de Gris didn’t seem to realize that she was still there. She was still staring down at the map as if had the answers that she sought. 

“Uhh...” Kuina forced herself to keep her face neutral as de Gris’s head snapped up. 

De Gris’s eyes bored into her, but Kuina got the feeling that it was looking without really seeing. Her mind was too busy elsewhere. “”What do you want?”

“Am I supposed to just go with Danny?” Kuina asked. _You said this was an army. What are my orders?_

De Gris let out a heavy breath, fingers tapping impatiently against the table. Her eyebrows knit together in an unhappy line. “No…” she said slowly. “We need strong swords to help escort the ones who are fleeing. They’re just ordinary people. Most don’t know how to hold themselves in a fight, and I can’t trust the few who do to keep a clear head in a sticky situation.”

She paused then. So long that Kuina wondered if she’d been dismissed, but before she could take her leave, de Gris said in a low voice, “I can’t promise I can get you to the Grand Line after this.”

Kuina froze in place. 

“There’s too much here that doesn’t make sense. Too many resources being used to ensure we don’t win this island. I’m not going to be satisfied with running away with my tail tucked between my legs without bloodying their nose first. My pride won’t allow it. Do you understand, Swordsman?”

“You promised,” Kuina said, the buzz in her ears making her voice sound faint and very far away. “ _Dragon_ promised!”

“I know,” de Gris said. “That’s why I’m telling you I want you on that boat with the rest of the refugees. It’s headed for a Revolutionary stronghold at the entrance of the Grand Line. From there, you’re free to do as you please.”

At first Kuina didn’t hear the words that came out of her mouth. But when they pierced through her defensive walls of anger she deflated like a punctured balloon. “You’re going to just...let me go? Even after seeing one of your bases?”

De Gris showed what she thought about Kuina selling the Revolution out with a dismissive flick of the wrist. “You said it yourself—the marines don’t like people who beat up their officers, even if the information’s good. I don’t know if that shot would have hit Elizabeth earlier today, but you saved me from having to find out. The Revolution saved your ass at Loguetown, but you’ve paid that debt. A life for a life.” She chuckled darkly to herself. “Hell, if you wanted to go out there and fight for the Tolouse army I wouldn’t stop you. But I don’t think that’s what you want, is it?”

“No, of course not.” Getting to the Grand Line was all that mattered.

“Then get out of my sight. God willing, we’ll never have to see one another again.”

Kuina’s frown deepened. It would take hours to organize the retreat. It wasn’t as if they wouldn’t cross paths before then.

Unless…

“You told everyone else what their jobs were,” Kuina said carefully, “but you never said what _you’re_ planning to do in all this mess.”

A wolfish grin spread across de Gris’s face. “You need to get your ears checked, kid. I told you already—there are some people out there who deserve to get their noses bloody, and I’m going to make sure they get what’s coming to them.”

She turned back to the table and carefully rolled up the map. Recognizing the dismissal when she saw it, Kuina left the shop, not sure if she should be apprehensive or jealous. 

Elizabeth was just outside the doorway, talking with a Revolutionary in a fox helmet. Kuina stopped, a feeling that was strangely familiar to regret washing over her. It would have been so much easier if these were bad people, but they weren't. Making a snap decision, Kuina slung her bag from her shoulder and rummaged through its contents until she found a

her few remaining bills that had survived falling into the sea. 

She counted out five hundred berries and shoved them into Elizabeth’s hand, ignoring the girl’s indignant, and then confused look as she stalked away. 

After all, a swordsman always paid their debts.

* * *

The Revolutionary Kuina was partnered with described sewers as the arteries of a city. Smelly, dirty arteries that were barely passable for a healthy, able-bodied person, and the majority of the men, women, and children that fleeing Tolouse couldn’t rightly be called either. 

Kuina was glad that she didn’t have the thankless task of choosing between who had the opportunity to flee and the ones forced to stay. The Revolution didn’t have nearly enough ships to accommodate those whose homes had been destroyed, and even if they did, they had to be cautious who they allowed into their secret bases scattered throughout the world.

Instead she and a man called Azem shuffled small clusters of people through the city’s underground. They were one of several teams, each taking different routes to the various boats hidden up and down the coast. The hope was that the Revolutionaries above would provide enough of a distraction to the army for them to get away safely, but the depleted numbers of the Revolution meant they had to move quickly or risk being overrun. 

That was a task easier said than done. Many of the people Kuina guided were in shock, some refusing to acknowledge that they may never return to their homes. Some screamed when they were forced to leave behind treasured belongings too heavy or awkward to carry. Kuina heard enough ungrateful grumbling to last a thousand lifetimes, and those who didn’t complain wept, an overwhelming sense of _fear_ exuding from them that was more pungent than the foulness they were forced to travel through. 

It was exhausting in a way her training had never prepared her for. Kuina made the last trip with a boy strapped across her back, his little arms like vice grips around her neck. Even though she could scarcely breathe, Kuina didn’t chastise him. Strangulation was better than him crying, which seemed inevitable by his hitched, haggard breathing every time she adjusted his weight on her back. 

Clasped around her hand, equally tight, was the boy’s older sister. Kuina didn’t like having only one hand free for her sword, but the girl had refused to move unless she had someone to hold on to, and no one else volunteered for the task. The clothes of both children were well cared for and they lacked the thin-limbed, gaunt look of hunger, which meant that they had had _someone_ to watch over them at one point in time, but who that person was Kuina had no idea. Asking had made fat tears fall down the girl’s face, and she eventually decided she was better off not knowing.

Every few minutes the walls of the sewer would shake and rumble from an explosion above ground, each one dislodging bits of mortar and grime overhead and sending a jolt of increased urgency and anxiety through their small group. It was in those tensest moments that Kuina was most grateful for Azem. He was a jovial, middle aged man who chose to go without a mask, going from person to person encouraging them onward, helping stragglers, and generally keeping this last group from panicking. 

It was miserable, thankless work, but finally they reached the metal rungs that would lead them to safety. Azem climbed first, pausing to listen at the cover of the manhole before lifting it aside. 

“Hurry,” he urged. “There’s not much time—”

A blinding flash of light flashed in the sky above, followed immediately by a roar of fire. Those trying to flee screamed, and Kuina had to catch one who tried to run back through the tunnels even as the girl at her side tried to bury her head in Kuina’s shirt.

Azem was knocked from the ladder and landed awkwardly on the walkway below. He cried out in pain, immediately clutching at his leg. 

“We’re dead! They’ve found us and now we’re _dead!”_ a woman screamed shrilly. 

“No one’s dying!” Kuina snapped. She threw the attempted runaway back into the group and pried the children off of her body, handing them off to the nearest person who seemed willing to take them before rushing to Azem.

His right leg was obviously broken, but the bone hadn’t cut through the skin. Breathing a prayer for small mercies, Kuina looked up at the uncovered manhole. The moon was bright enough to break through the haze of smoke and ash. No further sounds of fighting filtered down below, and Kuina took a deep breath. 

“It looks like it was an unlucky shot,” she said, keeping her voice calm and firm. She felt dozens of eyes boring into her back as she tried to think. “I’m going up to double check. Everyone stay put—running now _will_ get you killed.”

She crouched down to Azem and asked quietly, “Did you hurt anything other than the leg?”

“No,” he gasped. “I don’t think so.”

Remembering one of the tricks the doctors used back at the Oldtown hospital, Kuina checked for the pulse by his ankle and found it was still strong. He was getting blood to his foot. With nothing here to help brace it, the best thing to do was probably get him to the ships to be looked after by someone who knew what they were doing.

That meant exiting the sewers.

Taking a deep breath, Kuina began to climb, straining her ears to hear anything that might have been amiss. When she reached the surface she lifted her head out carefully. She could hear the sound of fighting, but it was still in the distance. Chewing on her bottom lip, Kuina thought hard. The Tolouse Army was never supposed to get this close. Another misfired rocket could kill her whole group, but she didn’t know any other way to the ships. 

They would have to be fast, but she couldn’t let them panic. Kuina lowered herself back into the tunnel.

“Definitely an unlucky shot,” she hissed. “Come on, we’re close now.”

The people looked at one another, naked fear in their expressions, but after a few tense seconds the man who’d tried to run stepped to the rungs. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not staying _here._ ”

After that, they started fighting one another to escape. With her partner unable to organize the chaos below, it was all Kuina could do to pull them out of the hole as fast as they could climb. With her sword sheathed and her back to any potential enemy, the minutes passed with agonizing slowness, but Kuina was able to at least get them all out of the sewers. 

All except Azem.

The sound of the battle grew louder. In her gut, Kuina knew that they only had before their position would be exposed. Her eyes flickered from the refugees to Azem and back again, while the people waited anxiously for her to tell them what to do. 

“Do you remember where you’re going?” Kuina asked. A few nodded their heads hesitantly. “Then _run._ When you reach the ship tell the Revolutionaries to prepare to sail; I’ll be right behind you.”

Without waiting for their response, Kuina went down to the tunnel. Azem’s eyes bulged at the sight of her. “What are you doing?” he exclaimed. “The mission—”

“Do you want to die?” Kuina said sharply. “Because if I leave you here, that’s what’s going to happen.”

Kuina glanced up, but the shadows of the refugees were already gone. She hoped the little boy had found someone to carry him.

“My life isn’t what’s important here,” Azem said. “Besides, how the hell do you expect to get me out of here? You’ve condemned us both.”

Suppressing the urge to roll her eyes, Kuina threw Azem over her shoulder. He bit back a groan, and without waiting for him to argue, Kuina began to climb. 

It was neither elegant nor easy, but Kuina managed to get Azem out of the sewers. The fighting was even closer now. Kuina hadn’t managed more than a few steps before she heard someone yell, followed closely by the rapport of a rifle. 

Kuina had no choice. She ran, the sound of her feet pounding against the ground in rhythm with the thundering of her heart. She smelt blood, but didn’t know where it was coming from. She ignored it. She ignored everything but the urge to run.

A bullet passed by overhead. Cursing, Kuina ducked down and forced herself faster. She could see the ocean now, and the silhouette of the Revolutionary’s ship against the backdrop of the rising moon. She was so close she could taste it…

A shadowy figure stepped out of the darkness and raised a gun. Kuina tried to stop, but she was going too fast, Azem’s weight making her clumsy. The flash of the muzzle blinded her vision, bullet missing her by inches. 

When Kuina finally stopped, she recognized Danny’s terrified face. The shipwright fired twice more, and behind her, Kuina heard someone scream. A broken laugh bubbled through the terror. 

“What are you doing?” Kuina screamed. “You’re supposed to be at the ship!”

“I...I couldn’t do it,” Danny said. “I can’t keep living like this. Weren’t you listening earlier? There a traitor leaking information to the marines. I know how Aria is. She won’t stop until she gets everyone under her command killed trying to figure out who.”

Danny fired twice more, and would have kept firing, except she’d run out of bullets. She had the wide-eyed look of a spooked horse and obviously wasn't thinking clearly. Kuina risked a glance behind her and swore. The battle was coming to them, and there was no time left to argue. 

“Hold on Azem, almost there,” Kuina whispered, and once again she ran, grabbing Danny as she passed. 

“I knew you’d understand,” she gasped. “That’s why I waited, I was so scared when you didn’t come with the rest, I thought you’d gone back to fight…”

“Less talking, more running,” Kuina growled. “I can’t carry the both of you—”

Sudden pain exploded in the back of her head. She barely felt the jolt as she collapsed to her knees, Azem sliding out of her arms, and was unconscious before ever hitting the ground

* * *

Kuina woke in a dark, dingy room that smelled of shit and sweat. Clumsily she brought a hand to the back of her head, only to have it come back wet and sticky with blood. Even in the darkness she could feel the press of humanity around her, too many bodies in too close a space. 

Someone had taken her sword.

“Wha...what happened?” she groaned. Slowly her eyes adjusted to the dark, and she felt the gentle rock of water. A ship. She was on a ship. 

Beams of moonlight came in from a hatch above, where bars of iron locked them away from their freedom. So not just a ship, she was in a _brig._ Groggily, Kuina got to her feet and looked around her, lurching forward without having any real idea where she was going. 

Someone tugged on her shirt. Kuina looked down to see the girl she’d helped guide through the sewers. De Gris said the Revolution had commandeered a military vessel, but there was no reason to force the refugees into a literal _prison_. Unless that was their way of hiding them until they reached their base on the Grand Line? It was the only explanation that made sense. Kuina couldn’t think. It hurt too much. 

“Danny?” she groaned. “Azem?”

“They brought you in alone,” a man said hoarsely. Kuina recognized him, too. He’d tried to run away when Azem fell. The shadows of the night made the hollows of his cheeks seem deeper, his eyes more hopeless. 

“I don’t understand. What’s going on?” Kuina said. 

“They captured us. Now they’re going to take us with all the rest.”

The words made someone else burst into a sob. Kuina looked all around, but only grew more confused. None of them were bound, yet they weren’t trying to escape. Nor was anyone in hysterics, or screaming for help. All around her Kuina saw faces drawn in weary resignation, as if they weren’t surprised by this turn of events. 

“Take us with all the rest...where?” Kuina asked. 

The man laughed a thin, reedy laugh. “They didn’t tell you? All criminals on Tolouse get shipped to Tequila Wolf. Damn you and your revolution, at least back home we could have died like men. You people have—” He cut himself off suddenly and turned his back on Kuina. “I hope you’re happy with yourself. Because of you, we’re all going to die.”

Kuina felt as if she’d been plunged in a bucket of ice water, but anger fueled by pain and confusion quickly burned through the shock. “No one forced you to come. You could have stayed and fought for your home, but you chose to flee. That’s not my fault.”

“I saw my wife burn!” the man screamed. “What was I supposed to do? I was a _bricklayer,_ for God’s sake. I don’t know how to hold a sword or fire a gun. I didn’t ask for you to come, I didn’t want to fight!”

He came so close that Kuina began to see double, and for a moment it looked as if he might try to hit her. Kuina didn’t flinch as he grabbed a fist full of her jacket. Didn’t look away from the anguish burning in his eyes. 

The only sound was of his labored breathing, his breath hot on her face. Still Kuina did not move. Then, all at once, his lip quivered, a tear slipping from the corner of his eye. Kuina could do nothing as the man in front of her _broke_. Her jacket slid through his fingers as he slumped to his knees, face crumpled in abject misery before he buried it in his arms and wept. 

“I remember when they took my uncle,” a woman behind them said. “They stole him right from his bed, and we never saw him again.”

“The bastards got my best friend. Said he’d been stirring up sedition, whatever that means,” another said bitterly. “Found out later it was someone else handing out those fliers, but when we went to the judge asking them to bring him back he said there was nothing he could do.”

Others murmured in agreement, telling stories of other people _They_ had gotten in the samed hushed tones children used for ghost stories, and with the same bone-chilling effect. Unease setting her teeth on edge, Kuina kneeled down to the man in front of her. Body-wracking sobs had overtaken him, and no matter what she did, Kuina couldn’t get him to even look at her. 

The little girl pressed closer to her side, eyes wide as saucers. Kuina looked down at her and asked, “I don’t suppose you can tell me what Tequila Wolf is?”

When she spoke, the words came out in a little puff of air that scarcely bridged the distance between them. “It’s a place where bad people go until they learn how to be good.”

If the stories swirling around them were any indication, _being good_ was a feat few managed to achieve. Head pounding, Kuina got to her feet and tried to think. The ship wasn’t sailing yet, but likely would be soon. She had to strain, but she could still hear the sounds of battle. Which she supposed was a good thing as it meant the Revolution hadn’t been overrun, but the plan had only been for short, distracting skirmishes to pull the Tolouse army’s attention away from the various retreats. They weren’t prepared to get dragged into a headon clash tonight.

 _There’s a traitor_. Danny’s words rang in Kuina’s mind. That must have been how they knew to target the transport ships. Kuina didn’t know if any of the other ship’s locations had been compromised, but had to assume the worst. The Revolution’s closest reinforcements were still on the Venn Islands. No one was coming to rescue them once they got out to sea.

“Where’s your brother?” Kuina asked. 

The girl shrugged. “They said he was too little and took him away. Can you find him? Please?”

Boots marched on the decks overhead. Over the murmuring of the captives Kuina heard the orders to raise anchor. Her eyes darted around looking for some escape, but it was a _brig_. Even if she stood on someone’s shoulders she didn’t think she’d be tall enough to reach the metal bars separating her from freedom. 

_If only I had my sword._ But no. They’d taken it from her, along with her backpack and mask, and with her time and options dwindling to nothing, Kuina didn’t know what she was supposed to do.

It quickly became apparent that she couldn’t escape on her own, and the people around her were too busy wallowing in their own misery to be of much help. If she were somehow able to convince the sailors above she wasn’t a Revolutionary then _maybe_ they might let her go, but based on the stories she was hearing even that seemed doubtful.

Kuina’s thought up and discarded several ideas in rapid succession, each more unlikely than the last, until she stumbled upon an idea that was insane enough to be worth trying. Not giving herself a chance to second guess her own stupidity, Kuina pushed through the crowd of people until she was directly under the hatch and bellowed at the top of her lungs, 

“ _My name is Master Chief Petty Officer Tashigi of the 223rd Division, and I demand to speak with the captain of this ship!”_

Ignoring the gasps of surprise from the Tolouse refugees, she cupped her hands against her face and repeated her demand. Her heart sank as she got no immediate answer, but she had never been one to let something as trifling as disappointment stop her before. Kuina bellowed her doppleganger’s name and rank again and again and again, until her voice cracked and her throat burned. Even if they did not believe her, Kuina hoped to at least annoy them enough to send someone to shut her up.

It took a few minutes of arduous effort, but eventually a head leaned over the iron bars, casting a shadow over Kuina. “Quit your hollering,” the sailor snapped. “I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish, but I know for a fact there ain’t no marines in Tolouse.”

“I’m not from Tolouse you imbecile,” Kuina retorted. She tried to ape the same haughty manner she saw in the officers that came through Loguetown. It took a certain level of imperiousness that the real Tashigi had never managed to grasp, but this idiot wouldn’t know the difference. “Under the orders of Captain Smoker, I infiltrated a Revolutionary ship docked at Loguetown pretending to be a sympathizer. We had hoped to find out what the Revolutionary leader Dragon was doing stinking up our waters and would have notified local authorities through the proper channels if _someone_ hadn’t decided to put horned snails all over the city.”

“The marines know better than to—”

“Do you think Captain Smoker has ever let anyone tell him what to do?” Kuina said, somehow managing to keep her voice cool and collected even as she scrambled for excuses. “I’m sure he’ll be pleased when I tell him you assholes forced me to blow my cover. Or would you rather wait until I get to Tequila Wolf to deliver that bit of news?”

The sailor gulped. It seemed that Smoker’s reputation traveled farther than expected. 

“I’m waiting,” Kuina said after giving the implications sink in properly. 

“I, uh...I need to run this by my captain,” the sailor said. “If you don’t mind, can I have your identification number, just to be safe?”

Kuina gave it, having memorized Tashigi’s military ID through sheer repetition after years of filling paperwork verifying bounties. Between that and all the times Tashigi used Ipponmatsu’s shop to clean her sword, Kuina knew enough of her personal information to satisfy any interrogator, but if they actually contacted the base in Loguetown she was done for.

She held her breath as the sailor disappeared. Kuina hardly paid attention when one of the Tolouse refugees approached, an old woman that Kuina remembered having to carry through parts of the journey through the sewers. 

“What is it?” Kuina asked impatiently. 

“How dare you,” the woman said, her voice barely contained fury. “How dare the marines show their face here, after all you’ve done.”

She slapped Kuina across the face, hard, and spit at her feet. Kuina brought a hand to her now-burning cheek in shock, saying nothing as a wave of vitriol spilled from the old woman’s mouth. It was only when the woman raised her hand again Kuina moved, effortlessly catching her wrist. 

“I let you hit me once, in deference to your age and obvious distress,” Kuina said in a low, dangerous voice, “but I will not suffer that indignity twice. You know nothing about me or my purpose for coming here, so shut up and leave me alone.” She shoved the hand away, causing the old woman to stumble back. 

Kuina eyed the rest warily, but they were too afraid to challenge her. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck, mixing with the blood from the blow to the back of her skull. Her head pounded, making it hard to think much past the fear. 

_If I just had my sword…_

It felt like an eternity past, but in all likelihood it had only been minutes before the sailor came back, this time with friends. He unlocked the hatch, swinging it open before lowering down a ladder. Kuina climbed her way to freedom, while the sailors used the butts of their rifles to keep any of the other prisoners from doing the same. 

Kuina wasn’t sure she had ever been more glad for the fresh sea air, but one look at the sailors showed she wasn’t out of the woods yet. One sailor with a no-nonsense buzz cut and a muscular frame so compact it was nearly square snapped a salute, acting as the leader for the rest. “Our apologies for the inconvenience, Petty Officer, but the captain would like to speak with you.”

“I want my sword,” Kuina said. 

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but—”

“Someone knocked me unconscious this evening, sailor, and I don’t think it was the Revolution,” Kuina said. “Give me my sword or put me back in the brig and wait for Tequila Wolf. Your choice.”

“I...er, yes, ma’am. What I was trying to say was that your belongings have already been taken to the captain’s quarters.”

“...Oh.” Kuina almost apologized, but managed to stop herself in time. She’d never met a marine who would admit fault if they could help it, Tashigi being the exception that proved that rule. Instead she nodded curtly, and Buzz Cut snapped an order that was hastily obeyed by a pudgy-faced boy who didn’t look old enough to shave.

Kuina glanced out at Tolouse before letting them take her into the captain’s quarters. Explosions burst through the sky like fireworks in a New Year celebration, lighting up a skyline that flickered red and orange. The fires the Revolution had worked so hard to put out were back in full force, and under the light of the moon, Tolouse had transformed to hell on earth. And with the fighting still going in earnest, there wasn’t any way to stop it. 

“There was a boy with this group of prisoners, couldn’t have been much older than five,” Kuina said. “Where is he?”

Buzz Cut’s poker face was excellent. His subordinates’, less so. Shame-faced, the pudgy boy opened the door to the captain’s quarters and bid her to enter. Frowning, Kuina squared her shoulders and tried to make herself as intimidating as a person who smelled like a sewer possibly could.

Buzz Cut didn’t even wait for Kuina to fully enter before he began shouting orders. “Prepare to sail. We’ve wasted too much time already.”

“No.”

Buzz Cut turned to Kuina in shock. “Petty Officer, with all due respect—”

“I said no,” Kuina said coldly. “And until I get in contact with Captain Smoker, I’m the voice of the World Government for this entire damn island. Right now you’d have better luck arguing with god than getting me to change my mind.” 

Laughter rumbled deep within the captain’s quarters that made a chill crawl up Kuina’s spine. “My, my, my, look how assertive you’ve gotten since we’ve last met. I’ll admit, I didn’t think you had it in you, Petty Officer.”

Sitting behind an ornately carved desk was a tall, broad-shouldered man wearing the long coat and epaulettes of a captain. His face might have been handsome once, but his features had the squashed, lumpy look of a brawler who’d lost more fights than they won. A saber hung at his hip, leather scabbard scuffed and well-worn. 

“Close the door,” the captain said. 

“But sir,” Buzz Cut protested, “our orders…”

“Our orders can wait the few minutes it will take to put our marine friend at ease. Now, shut the door. Please.”

While framed as a request, the order was anything but. Buzz Cut swallowed loudly and did as he was told. When they were alone, the captain reached behind his desk and retrieved Kuina’s sword. “I see you’re as obsessed as ever ‘bout your steel, Petty Officer. Always thought it were a shame you got leashed that wild dog Smoker, and it seems he’s baying just as loud as ever. You deserve a better sort of man than him.”

He laughed again, the sound like a rusty knife drug over stone. Confused and more than a little suspicious, Kuina quickly inspected its blade. When she was satisfied it hadn’t been damaged or tampered with, Kuina hung it at her hip.

“Do I know you?” she asked. The words had hardly escaped her lips before she regretted them, but the man snorted. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me already, Petty Officer. It’ll wound me manly pride.” His grin widened, revealing a mouth full of blackened, rotting teeth. “Or are you really that blind without your glasses?”

“I’d like to think I purposefully forgot to save myself the pain of remembering that ugly mug of yours,” Kuina said. “Now identify yourself! What in the world is going on here? Why do you have _children_ in your brig?”

“Is that what this is about?” the man said, sounding disappointed. “Smoker was the same way when I spoke to him last year. You soft-hearted types are why the world’s going to shit. You know as well as I do that age doesn’t matter when it comes to criminals. We have legal justification for every one of those rebels we locked up. Excusing your pretty face, o’ course. Or did you somehow miss the fucking war right outside these doors?”

Kuina balled her hands into fists and didn’t answer.

A look of satisfaction spread across the captain’s face. He bowed slightly, with a little, mocking flourish that made Kuina want to punch him in his ugly, leering face. “Captain Jack O’Neil at your service, of the Callihan Trading Company. It’s a pleasure to remake your acquaintance, Petty Officer. To be honest, it’s been far too long since a lady of your caliber graced these planks, and I’m sorry one of my men had to crack your skull to do it. Once we get this sorted I’ll have my men do everything in our power to ensure your stay on my ship is a comfortable one.”

Kuina’s frown deepened. She’d heard of the CTC—they were forever hanging advertisements near the docks of Loguetown in search of sailors and hired swords to protect their wares from pirates.There’d been a time when she’d been tempted to sign up for a voyage, but when she went to inquire about the post she was laughed out of the room by a pair of burly men with more muscles than sense. 

The company dabbled in everything from the spice trade to arms transport and weren’t particularly picky about who they worked for. There were even rumors that pirates and crime lords used them as a front for their smuggling operations, but Kuina had always dismissed them as overblown talk from jealous competitors.

She was beginning to think now that there was some truth behind those allegations. 

Jack O’Neil cleared his throat when the silence stretched a beat too long to remain comfortable. “You and I both know that all this destruction could have been avoided if not for these rebels. You agree that the perpetrators need to be punished, doncha, Petty Officer?”

Kuina's eyes hardened. “The boy. Where is he?”

“Expedited sentence,” O’Neil said with a shrug. “Couldn’t be helped, ones that little are no good for hard labor. It’s the same with the known Revolutionaries, they’re too much of a risk to imprison, and the money on their heads is good even if we turn ‘em in cold. It’s just good business. You understand how it is.”

He’d killed him. The monster in front of her had _killed_ a child in cold blood. He’d killed Azem. He’d killed Danny, who regretted joining the Revolution and had been trying to escape a life of violence and death. 

Kuina’s world went red.

“No, Captain. I’m afraid I don’t _._ ”

It was now O’Neil’s turn for silence. He squinted down at Kuina, perplexed and exasperated. “Did that blow to the head knock your common sense loose, Petty Officer? I don’t you recall you bein’ half this mouthy before, or didja spend enough time with the menfolk that you finally grew a pair of—” 

Kuina struck before he could even think to move. A gurgled scream tore from his lips as O’Neil grasped the wound at the base of his throat. His eyes bulged in terror and pain, one hand trying to stem the bleeding while the other reached for the sword at his side.

Kuina didn’t give him the chance.

She stepped over O’Neil’s rapidly-cooling body. Behind his desk she found her bag, which had obviously been searched through and hastily repacked, and her mask. She put the latter in her bag after wrapping it in a shirt to keep it from breaking and slung it over her shoulder. 

She wanted them to see her face before they died. 

A den-den mushi at the corner of O’Neil’s desk caught her eye. It was attached to a machine that allowed faxes, and Kuina laughed when she saw that it hadn’t been used. The idiot captain hadn’t bothered to verify her story, trusting that he’d be able to recognize Tashigi on sight. 

There were papers, too. Logs and ledgers and a map of the area. Kuina was in the process of stuffing them in her backpack when the door to the office opened, revealing the face of the pudgy boy. 

“I’m sorry, sir, but Mo wanted to know if we had permission to set sail yet. He says it’s getting bad…”

His voice trailed off into a whisper as his eyes followed the path of blood from O’Neil to Kuina. He stood, slack jawed and wide-eyed, swaying gently on his feet as if he were about to faint.

“Whu...what happened?”

Kuina leveled her sword at the boy. “Get off this ship, or I will kill you.”

The boy flinched. Kuina didn’t know if it was an attempt to draw his weapon or a visceral response to fear, but she took no chances. The boy screamed as she darted forward, but remained firmly rooted in place. He quickly joined his captain in death.

The advantage of stealth was gone with the cry of alarm. If nothing else, the men waiting on deck were professionals and quickly recovered from their initial shock. Kuina dodged the blow from a cutlass, her counter catching him on the wrist. The sailor screamed, clutching the bloody stump where his hand used to be.

“Call the alarm!” Buzz Cut bellowed, deflecting Kuina’s katana as she rushed toward him. “Bring reinforcements!”

Kuina ducked to avoid another slash, and was forced to roll to avoid being shot. She cursed as more men crawled out of the bowels of the ship like ants from an overturned hill. She disentangled herself from a block and cut down two more, managing to hamstrung a third before crossing blades with Buzz Cut once more.

“What are you doing?” he screamed. “ _We’re on the same side!”_

“I don’t think we are,” Kuina said coldly. With a twist of her wrist she batted his sword aside and ran him through.

That was a mistake. Buzz Cut coughed bloody foam as he slumped to the ground, and it took Kuina too long to dislodge her sword from his body. She was forced to twist awkwardly to avoid the crushing blow of a weighted club, and doing so put her right in the path of another sailor’s saber. 

Pure reflex saved Kuina from decapitation. She danced away from the saber, trying to keep herself in the middle of a crowd, using the threat of friendly fire to dissuade them from shooting. She was quickly surrounded, and a feral grin spread across her face. A distress flare shot into the night sky, burning boldly over the stolen ship.

This was it. This was where she belonged, with a blade in hand and nothing but her skill and fickle fortune between her from death. All the worry and anxiety of the last week melted away, replaced with pure bloodlust fueled by her fury. 

“Gods above, she’s gone mad,” one of the sailors whispered, and the mixture of fear and awe like music to her ears. 

It was the last thing she heard for a long time. 

* * *

Kuina came to her senses covered in blood that was not her own. She found herself standing over the Buzz Cut sailor, who was miraculously still alive, gasping erratically and frantically for air. Under the light of the moon the blood that bubbled out of the cut in his chest looked black. Pausing to flick the excess blood off her katana, Kuina kneeled beside him. He couldn’t die yet. Not when there was so much she didn’t know.

“Who hired you?” she asked calmly. “It’s not marines, or else they would have messaged Loguetown. Who’s paying you to murder children?”

“You’re too late, bitch. Help is coming. Gemini will cut you down.” He looked weakly to the side and laughed. “They’re here already.”

Kuina followed his gaze. Soldiers were marching towards the ship, too many for any one person to deal with. Getting back to her feet, Kuina hurried to the brig. She had to shove aside a body before she could open it and lower the ladder. 

“Do any of you know how to sail a ship?” Kuina called. To her surprise, the Tolouse refugees huddled in the corners, packed as close to one another as they could manage and refusing to move. Belatedly she realized they had no idea what happened other than what they’d overheard above. Drops of blood continued to drop down below.

“You’re safe,” she said. “None of them can hurt you, but you need to leave _now_.”

“And go where?” one asked. “I don’t know who you are, but the Revolutionaries who promised to get us to safety are dead.”

“And you’re about to join them if you don’t hurry up!” Kuina snapped. She looked over her shoulder. The soldiers were even closer now, and her energy was spent. A dozen shallow wounds slowed her movements, the blood loss making her vision hazy. And on top of it all, she had a pounding headache that would not stop. 

“Look,” Kuina said to the terrified men and women below, “I can’t tell you where to go. No one, not even the Revolutionary Army, has the right to do that. But what I can do is buy you time to make that decision. For your sake, I hope it’s a quick one.”

She walked to the ship’s railing. The dying sailor laughed as she passed, and in a weak, sneering voice said, “What do you hope to accomplish, brat? They’ll be recaptured within the day. All you’ve done is prolong their execution.”

Kuina paused, looking down at the oncoming army, rage building once more as all the atrocities that she’d seen since arriving to Tolouse flashed through her mind: The bombing of the square, the fires, the desecration of the dead. 

She remembered Danny and Azem, and the small, strong hands of the little boy grasping her neck. She remembered, and she felt the weight of unbalanced scales. 

_A life for a life._ It was a saying that went both ways, and for the first time she thought she understood Aria de Gris’s desire to bloody some noses.

Kuina jumped down from the ship and landed in a summersault on the docks. Her arms trembled with fatigue and exhilaration as she raised her sword. She felt the heat and the smoke mix with the mists rolling off of the sea, obscuring the mass of bodies wearing the uniforms of the Tolouse army coming toward her. 

Her blood hummed with anticipation. _This_ was what she was made for. _This_ was her purpose. Kuina couldn’t sail a ship. She couldn’t heal wounds or cook food or build ships or inspire others. But she could fight. She _loved_ to fight, loved the synergy between body and blade. There was something beautiful testing her strength against another, her life hanging in the balance.

In the haze Kuina was almost invincible, striking down enemies before they knew she was there. Unlike the frenzied battle of the ship, this cat and mouse style suited the skills she’d honed over her years of bounty hunting. 

The difference was she now had nowhere to retreat. Until the ship behind her set sail she couldn’t give up a single inch of ground. For the first time in her life, Kuina could not run. 

And for the first time since she was eleven years old, Kuina felt _alive._

It didn’t take long for the Tolouse army to retreat from the docks. Kuina couldn’t help but laugh as she caught her breath, allowing herself to believe for a brief moment that she’d won. 

Then she heard orders being barked into snail phones, and in the distance saw the flash of matches being lit. 

They had cannons. 

Kuina jumped in the air in time to intercept the first shot with no thought other than to protect the ship behind her. She screamed as she slashed downward, cutting the iron cannonball neatly in two. The halves exploded on either side of her, momentarily filling the air with brilliant light.

She landed in a predator’s crouch, gasping for air. There was no time to process what she’d just done, because more shots followed the first, punctuated with the sharper fire of rifles. 

Kuina cut a second cannonball just as easily as the first, but as she landed a third slammed into the docks behind her. Wood exploded, and the concussive blast of air threw Kuina onto the shore. The air was forced from her lungs, her katana thrown from her grasp. Kuina clasped her hands against her ears to stop the ringing, curled helplessly in a ball. 

_Get up!_

She couldn’t. It hurt too much, and her body was too weak. Kuina dug her fingers into the sand and pushed, but there was nothing left for her to give.

_You promised!_

She’d promised a lot of things. She’d promised her father that she’d stay safe, and the refugees that she would buy them time, and herself that she would avenge the dead of Tolouse. Kuina had proven herself a liar time and time again. What chance did she have of fulfilling her promise to Zoro if she couldn’t manage something as simple as that?

 _So get up_. _Keep fighting._

Kuina groaned, a low, keening noise drawn directly from her soul. She rested her arms against the beach as the last of her strength bled from her limbs. Something brushed against her hand, and instinctively Kuina reached for it. 

_Her sword._

Kuina’s fingers wrapped around the wrapped leather handle. Was this how she wanted to die, like a dog beaten one too many times? Or would she fight with pride? With _honor?_

 _I’m going to be the greatest swordsman in the world, or die trying._  
  
Slowly Kuina rose to her feet. Decision made, there was nothing else to worry about. Nothing that required her to _think._ Bruised and bloody, Kuina raised her sword one last time just as the first rays of dawn spilled over the horizon. 

The enemy came, and Kuina defeated them all. She didn’t care if they shot or stabbed at her. She didn’t care about anything at all. 

The earlier bloodlust was gone, replaced with the mechanical, instinctive movements of a woman who’d spent her life learning to kill. The sun rose and the bodies multiplied, but Kuina didn’t stop. Cut by cut, slash by slash, the only thing that kept her moving was the strength of her ambition. 

She didn’t know how long she lasted before she missed a parry, her opponent’s sword gliding against her arm. She stumbled back into the rising tide, her back hitting one of the few remaining posts of the splintered dock. It was the only thing that kept her upright as she ducked under the following slash. Blackness ate at the edge of her vision, her lungs burning for want of air. She knew she wouldn’t be able to raise her sword in time. 

Her opponent looked just like all the rest, just another young man wearing the grey uniform of the Tolouse army. There was nothing to differentiate him from the hundreds of others she’d seen since the night began. And yet, he would be the one to kill her. 

Kuina laughed at the absurdity of it all.

The man yelled as he swung his sword. Kuina closed her eyes and waited, smile still spread across her face. But instead of death there was only a choked scream and the sound of a full grown man falling into the water.

Kuina blinked her eyes open. A figure in full armor, helmet shaped like a roaring lion, pulled a thin blade from the young soldier’s back. Kuina blinked again as the rising sun glinted off the polished steel, seeing but not understanding. 

Then she felt it, a presence like wind swirling around the eye of a hurricane. Whoever this person was, was the real deal. A true swordsman. 

“Wanna fight?” Kuina gasped, drawing enough energy to spit a mouth full of blood into the sea before raising her sword. 

“It’s over, kid. You did good.”

“Did...good?” Kuina tried to take a step forward, but her vision went sideways. The armored swordsman caught her before she hit the ground. When Kuina looked up again the helmet was gone, and she stared into the dark eyes of Aria de Gris.

“C’mon. Let’s get you to the Grand Line.”


	7. Interlude

Tashigi had made a mistake.

Well, in actuality she had made several mistakes, but it had all started with a single, decisive moment. That choice sparked another, and another, and another, like dominos falling in a row, and now Tashigi didn’t know what she could do to stop it. Her solderly training demanded that she come clean to Smoker and accept the repercussions of her actions with dignity and grace, but Tashigi wasn’t convinced that was the _right thing_. 

After all, what Justice would be satisfied in revealing the identity of the Demon of Loguetown?

The fact was Kuina wasn’t a pirate. At least, Tashigi didn’t think so. True, she had aided and abetted a pirate’s escape, but it wasn’t as if Roronoa Zoro needed the help. Tashigi had been hopelessly outmatched by the both of them, the memory of her defeats making shame coil in her belly. Neither had Kuina coordinated with the Straw Hat Pirates—Roronoa’s obvious surprise at seeing her proved that much. She’d used the back of her blade to knock Tashigi’s men unconscious, and given back Tashigi’s sword without any sense of animosity between them. 

She’d hunted bounties in Loguetown longer than Tashigi had been stationed there as an officer. 

And yet, despite all that, Kuina had helped Roronoa escape. She’d put her blade to Tashigi’s throat and threatened to kill her. Both actions were undoubtedly crimes, but the only thing that had been hurt was Tashigi’s pride. Was that really enough to make Kuina a _criminal?_

Tashigi didn’t know, and that frightened her.

It was strange. Tashigi and Kuina had never been friends, exactly, but they had always been friendly with one another during their brief interactions. Their striking similarity in appearance—and the attention it drew from the people who liked to point it out—had always been somewhat uncomfortable for Tashigi, and that was before knowing that Kuina was also a swordsman. Watching her raise her blade was like looking into a mirror, and when looking back on that night all Tashigi could see was her own ineptitude. 

Maybe that was why she never said whose face resided underneath that mask. Shamed and humiliated by someone she thought she knew, Tashigi wrote in her official report that Roronoa Zoro had escaped on his own. Her subordinates who’d been with her that day never saw Kuina before being knocked out; none of them realized the Demon of Loguetown had been there at all. And if any of them suspected there was more to Roronoa’s escape than met the eye, they had the good sense to keep it to themselves.

 _The World Government isn’t what you think it is_. 

Tashigi could sense a truth in Kuina’s words, but what exactly she meant by them eluded her. After all, the World Government upheld order. Only the military might of the marines could protect the Blues from vicious, bloodthirsty pirates. In a world where chaos reigned, only the most Absolute Justice could keep society from being overrun.

So why couldn’t Tashigi do what that Justice demanded, and brand Kuina for the criminal she was?

It was the question that ate at her during her journey into the Grand Line, keeping her up at night and hounding her every waking moment. Smoker said she lacked discipline, that her lack of focus would get her killed. And maybe he was right, but Tashigi couldn’t bring herself to tell him the truth. Some days she could lie to herself and say that it was to protect Ipponmatsu and his family. The crotchety old man was at times a thorn in her side, and Tashigi suspected he knowingly sold his wares to pirates, but he was a good man who didn’t deserve the scrutiny that would come with an official investigation. 

But mostly, Tashigi was just confused.

Then, days later, the fax arrived. 

When looking back at that moment, Tashigi wouldn't be able to decide if she was glad to have seen it first. Frequent messages from HQ left Smoker frustrated and irritable, and while he would never _neglect_ his correspondence, he did have Tashigi sort it for him in case got the spontaneous urge to set something on fire. 

This wasn’t a message from Mariejois. It came from Loguetown, forwarded by the officer Smoker left in charge during his absence. He was worried about increased Revolutionary activity in the sector, particularly a battle on the Isle of Tolouse that had turned very ugly very quickly, raising concerns that violence would spread throughout the area. 

Tashigi skimmed the report, knowing anything regarding the Revolution would pique Smoker’s interest. Maybe after taking care of this Straw Hat business he would demand they find out why Dragon dared show his face in Loguetown. Until then…

Tashigi stopped in the middle of the report. Intelligence officers on Tolouse had been busy taking pictures—confirming dead Revolutionary officers, identifying new threats, trying to piece together the Revolution’s plans for the island—and smack dab in the middle of them all was _her._

The photograph had been taken at night, mist, smoke, and distance making it all but impossible to identify her definitively. But Tashigi would never forget that sword, and when she squinted she could just make out a face that was identical to her own.

_Unidentified Revolutionary female. Estimated age 18-25. Swordsman. Extremely dangerous, if seen proceed with caution. Reported to be responsible for 100+ casualties. Recommend bounty once identified. Send any leads regarding wearabouts to Cipher Pol immediately for further investigation._

Tashigi scoured the rest of the report, but there was no further mention of Kuina. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead and made her palms slick. A wave of nausea rolled through her as she went back to the photograph. Tashigi desperately looked for any sign that she had somehow been mistaken, that the woman who’d killed and wounded more than a hundred people was someone other than _her._

The more she looked, the more obvious it became. 

_Send any leads regarding whereabouts to Cipher Pol immediately for further investigation._

Lightheaded, Tashigi fell into the nearest seat. If Cipher Pol found out she let Kuina go without reporting her crimes...Tashigi didn’t want to think about it. She _couldn’t_ think about it. 

What was she doing with the Revolution anyway?! It didn’t make any sense; Kuina was a _bounty hunter_. She’d worked, albeit indirectly, with the World Government for _years._ How could she even have gotten to Tolouse in the first place? Before leaving Smoker ordered the harbors of Loguetown to be locked for days. 

There had to be some sort of mistake. Tashigi stared down at the photograph, willing herself to believe that she was simply being paranoid. There was no way. It was literally impossible.

She couldn’t have let a member of the Revolutionary Army walk free. 

A shout outside the door jolted Tashigi back to her senses. She hastily put the report back in order, wiping the sweat from her forehead and pinching the color back into her cheeks. Moments later Smoker wandered into the office. 

“Anything good?” he grunted. 

Tashigi swallowed hard and handed over the report. “News from home, sir.”

She slipped the photograph she’d stolen into her pocket when he wasn’t looking. Later that night before starting her watch, she would throw it into the sea.

It was another mistake, but no one could know. 

Watch that night was the longest of her young life. Assuaged by guilt, Tashigi wracked her mind for some way to make things right. The answer, when it came, hit her all at once, elegant in its simplicity. 

Smoker was hunting the Straw Hat Pirates. Roronoa Zoro had sworn to meet Kuina on the Grand Line. Wherever he went, she would undoubtedly follow. Tashigi didn’t have to _do_ anything, fate had already ensured that they would meet again.

And this time, Tashigi would be ready.

  
  



	8. Straight Lines on a Crooked Path

When Kuina woke up, it was in a bed that was not her own. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she pushed aside the heavy blankets tucked around her and sat up, wincing as a muscle in her side twinged in protest. The pain triggered memories of the night before, and she looked down at her arms apprehensively, memories of blood and gore trickling back into her mind.

There was a line of sutures on her bicep, and she felt the edges of a pressure dressing rub against her scapula, but other than that Kuina was remarkably free from injury. There was good feeling to all extremities, and despite losing enough blood to leave her lightheaded for days, Kuina’s mind felt clear and her body rested.

Kuina swung her feet over the side of the bed and inspected her surroundings. She’d been left alone in some kind of infirmary. Of the half dozen beds lined up along the walls only hers was occupied, a privacy curtain only half-pulled and an unused IV pole hanging from the corner of the bed. The small desk at the corner of the room was likewise empty. Someone had changed her into a pair of pajama pants and a cotton shirt that was two sizes too big. Her hair—surprisingly free of blood—had a faint fruity smell to it that cut through the antiseptic stench that otherwise dominated the room. 

Kuina searched for the wound she knew existed on the back of her head, but the cut was gone. There wasn’t even a bump or scab, and if not for a bit of soreness when she pressed too hard, Kuina wouldn’t have been able to tell she’d been injured at all. 

Just how long had she been unconscious? 

She was just starting to get worried when the door swung open and Clara Cross entered the room, clipboard tucked under her arm and cup of coffee cradled in her hands. At the sight of Kuina, her eyes lit up.

“Well isn’t this a treat?” Clara said as she crossed the room, trading her coffee for the stethoscope laying on her desk. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Kuina said. “Weirdly, strangely good. How long have I been out?”

Clara consulted her watch, and a pleased expression came over her face. “Almost forty-eight hours exactly, which puts you ahead of schedule. I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you, but you’re one resilient little lady.”

“I—but that doesn’t make sense,” Kuina said. 

“Oh, stranger things have happened.”

Clara brushed her fingers over Kuina’s arm. The skin began to itch, and Kuina watched in amazement as the cut healed into a pink line of new skin so faint it wouldn’t even scar.

“I’ll take the sutures out in a minute,” Clara said as she inspected her handiwork. “Have you any pain?”

“None,” Kuina said. She was much more interested in whatever the hell Clara had just done. “You ate the Heal Fruit?” 

“Ha! I  _ wish  _ I’d eaten the Heal-Heal Fruit,” Clara said as she brought her stethoscope to her ears. “But that’s not a bad guess. I ate the Split-Split Fruit—a bit of a misnomer, I admit, but I suppose trying to say Mitosis-Mitosis Fruit on a regular basis would be too much like chewing gravel.” She put the bell to Kuina’s chest. “It’s got its limitations, but it’s a useful enough ability for a trauma surgeon. Now take a deep breath for me, sweetie. That’s it.”

Kuina fell silent as Clara ran through her assessment. Despite her cheerful disposition she looked much worse for wear than the last time Kuina had seen her. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her complexion had a wan, sagging look to it that made Kuina think she hadn’t been eating or sleeping well.

Kuina wondered how much she’d played a part in that. 

Clara ran Kuina through a whole battery of tests only to come to the conclusion Kuina already knew to be true. The injuries she sustained on Tolouse were more or less healed, and what little soreness was left would resolve itself in a day or two. After removing the sutures from Kuina’s arm, Clara turned to the wound on her back.

“I do apologize, but it’s hard on a body to care for so much at once,” Clara said. “I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t bleed to death before taking care of some of the smaller hurts.”

“No, this is incredible,” Kuina said. “I saw Captain Smoker use his power a few times back in Loguetown, but it’s still hard imagining so many ability users in one place. Is it like this all the time on the Grand Line?”

Clara smiled softly. “Some places more than others, but in this line of work you’ll run into more than your fair share of Devil Fruits.”

Then she’d have to be stronger. Kuina flexed her fingers, almost giddy with the thought. There’d been a moment during the battle of Tolouse—one blessed,  _ glorious _ moment—where she’d felt invincible. Kuina wanted that sensation back. She would do whatever it took, and that meant being faster, stronger,  _ better _ , than she had been two nights ago. 

“Thank you so much,” Kuina said when Clara was finished. “Do you know where my sword is? I need to get changed, and—”

“You will do nothing of the sort,” Clara said firmly. “You have been through an ordeal, and your body needs rest.”

“I have been resting!” Kuina exclaimed. “For two whole days I’ve done nothing but rest! You can’t expect me to sit around doing nothing…”

Her voice trailed off as Clara wandered back to her desk and picked up a small glass beaker. The doctor pulled up a chair near Kuina’s bed and held the glass for her to see. Several misshapen chunks of metal rattled inside.

“The bullets I extracted from your body,” Clara said, not unkindly. “I thought Aria was dragging your corpse when she brought you here, and while I am now confident you are in no immediate danger of expiring before my very eyes, you  _ do  _ need time to recover.”

“I feel fine,” Kuina said mulishly. 

“Yes, but you warrior types have all the common sense God graced upon the common pudding when it comes to convalescing. Another day of bedrest at least.”

“You can’t be serious.”

But it was evident that Clara was completely serious. She set the beaker at her feet and looked Kuina squarely in the eye, as if daring her to argue. Kuina didn’t, but only because she knew it would be useless. 

“Can I at least have my sword?” Kuina asked. 

At this Clara smiled, a slow, rueful smile that matched the twinkle in her eye. “That can be arranged. Now, how about I have Elizabeth whip you up some breakfast. Is there anything in particular you’re hungry for?”

Remembering the debacle of Elizabeth’s previous attempt at feeding her, Kuina shook her head. Her attention was back to the healed gash on her arm. “Whatever’s already made is fine. Thank you,” she added as an afterthought.

* * *

Kuina was still touching the shiny pink skin when Clara returned bearing a tray laden with food. The doctor paused at the entranceway, giving Kuina a curious look she couldn’t quite decipher, before shutting the door quietly behind her. “Is something the matter?”

“Oh, no,” Kuina said. “It’s just...well, it won’t even scar. You said I almost died, and in a few days you won’t be able to tell.” She laughed a little, despite herself. “It takes a little getting used to, that’s all.”

Clara was silent as she helped Kuina arrange her tray. While not as disastrous as the burnt toast incident, the bowl of lumpy oatmeal and limp strips of bacon left much to be desired, but Kuina didn’t care. The smell alone made her mouth water, her body suddenly reminded it had gone two full days without anything to eat.

Clara sat back in her seat as Kuina inhaled her breakfast, a thoughtful look on her face. “I don’t mean to pry, but it seems that Tolouse wasn’t your first go-around.”

Kuina looked up at her, mouth half-full. “Huh?”

“Your scars,” Clara said. “The girls said you were a bounty hunter?”

Kuina’s hand went instinctively to her chest, heat flooding her cheeks. “Some are from then, yeah.”

“I was most concerned about the blow to your head,” Clara said. “It overlapped a previous injury, and multiple concussions can have serious side effects.”

“The headaches, I know,” Kuina said. She tilted her head thoughtfully. “How’d you know I cracked my head before?”

“Honey, you have a notable divot in the back of your skull,” Clara said. “I would be more concerned if I  _ hadn’t  _ noticed.”

“Oh, right. That.” Kuina peeled an orange to hide her embarrassment. “I’ve had it so long I forget it’s there sometimes.”

There was a beat of awkward silence, made worse by the valiant, if futile, attempt Clara made to keep her expression neutral. Finally, in a careful, tentative tone, she said, “I truly do not mean to pry in business that is not my own, but if you’re to remain on this ship I will be your doctor, in which case it is imperative for me to have a good understanding of your medical history. Past illnesses, history of vaccinations and treatments, major injuries...any information you could give would help me better care for you going forward.”

Kuina ate her orange slowly, unsure of how to answer. Staying with the Revolution had never been a part of the plan. They had simply been a means to an end, and with the Grand Line calling her name, Kuina didn’t think she had any place working under Aria de Gris.

It would have been so much easier if she could have held on to her resentment. If she could just  _ hate  _ the Revolution enough to cut herself from them without feeling guilty. But no. The events of Tolouse muddied those waters too much for Kuina to be sure of anything. 

“It’s not that exciting,” Kuina said finally. “I tripped on some stairs when I was a kid and hit my head on the way down. Probably could have used someone with your power back then, but my village didn’t have a hospital or anything like that. I’ve never been sick that I can remember, though, so it wasn’t that big of a deal. Everything else came from fighting swordsmen.”

It was the truth, mostly. Kuina had gotten good at that over the years. Keeping track of lies took more effort than she could be bothered with. After a brief moment of scrutiny that made Kuina wonder if Clara had eaten a Devil Fruit that let her pick out half-truths and fibs as well as heal, the matter was dropped. It was impossible to tell if she believed Kuina or not, and in the end it didn’t matter. The doctor had said so herself: How Kuina got her scars was none of her business.

Too soon Kuina’s breakfast was gone. Leaning back in bed, she let out a contented sigh. A warm, sleepy feeling had her fighting against the urge to shut her eyes again. From across the room, Clara chuckled. 

“I’m not tired,” Kuina said impertinently.

Before she could answer, the door burst open and de Gris entered the infirmary. The sudden intrusion made Clara squawk with alarm while Kuina jerked herself back upright. 

“I heard you were up,” de Gris said. 

Blue eyes flashed dangerously. “And  _ I _ told  _ you _ another day of rest,” Clara said.

De Gris waved her hand dismissively, unlit cigarette hanging limply between her fingers. “Kid just said she wasn’t tired. Might as well put her to work then, right?”

The physician marched across the room with all the dignity she could muster. Glaring up at de Gris, she snatched the cigarette from her hand. “For the last time,  _ not in my infirmary. _ ”

“You can have the smoke, or you can have your patient,” de Gris said lazily. “But I’ve got questions that need answers, and I don’t plan on suffering through this without some nicotine in my system.”

“I really do feel fine,” Kuina added. “Thanks to your superior ability, of course.”

She smiled as sweetly as she was able, and Clara managed to keep a straight face for all of two seconds before cracking. Drawing a hand over her forehead, she said, “ _ Fine.  _ But I forbid you from overexerting yourself.”

Kuina was out of bed before she could finish the sentence. Kuina bowed hastily, hoping to convey her genuine gratitude before following de Gris, grinning at one last image of Clara rubbing her temples before shutting the door behind her. 

“I think you were looking for this.”

De Gris offered Kuina her katana. She snatched it from the older woman as if she were afraid of it being taken away again. Having its familiar weight in her hands again made a knot in Kuina’s stomach loosen. It had been only days since leaving Loguetown, and already the thought of going without it for hours or days like she had back then made her cringe. 

“How long were you listening?” Kuina asked.

“Not long,” de Gris said. She looked at Kuina sidelong. “The doctor forgets sometimes. It’s not good for a swordsman to be without their sword.”

Kuina nodded absentmindedly. It had been well-cared for in her absence; she could smell the oil and sharp tang of clean steel. Her father always said a swordsman took care of their blade before themselves, something she hadn’t been able to manage while being half-dead. Offering a silent apology to her sword, Kuina moved to hang it at her hip, only to remember that she was still wearing someone else’s pajamas and had no way of doing so. 

“Most of your stuff didn’t survive the night. Next time we hit land I’ll make sure Mila gives you an allowance to replace them,” de Gris said, as if reading her mind. “This way.” 

De Gris ambled down the narrow corridor of the ship, Kuina falling in half a step behind her. The passage was narrower than she remembered Betty’s ship being, the wood a shade or two darker. “I’m guessing we’re on your ship? What’d they call it, the  _ Valor? _ ” Kuina asked. 

“Your guess would be correct,” de Gris said.

“And where exactly—?”   


“Oh gods, she’s alive!”

Kuina tensed instinctively as a shadow zipped out of nowhere and nearly tackled her to the ground. Freshly knitted bone and newly-healed tissues ground together, Kuina’s arms pinned against her sides and unable to fight against the force of Dara’s embrace. 

“I know Doc said you were, but when Boss brought you home you looked so dead I didn’t believe her!” Dara squealed. She broke off the hug and held Kuina at arm’s length, carefully appraising her appearance. Kuina didn’t know if it was her shock or residual weakness, but even then she couldn’t break free. “Cam, look here! She’s alive!”

The commotion drew more than just Camilla. Elizabeth slunk from around a corner, leaning with artful disinterest against a wall while a few other men and women Kuina didn’t know popped seemingly out of nowhere for the excitement of seeing the swordsman who, despite all previous appearances to the contrary, was, in fact, not dead. 

“Welcome aboard,” Camilla said. In the bright light, Kuina noticed for the first time that her eyes were the same tawny yellow as a cat’s, and she looked down at Kuina with that same sort of superior fondness. “And for god’s sake, Dara, let go or you’ll end up undoing all of Dr. Cross’s hard work by crushing her to death.”

* * *

It was a surreal feeling walking into de Gris’s captain’s quarters, still wearing her pajamas, still clutching her sword like it was a buoy keeping her from drifting off into the sea. Kuina hadn’t expected half the attention the Revolution poured over her, let alone for it to be so overwhelmingly positive. At best these were people she barely knew and until very recently had utterly despised. The rest were men and women Kuina had never met before in her life slapping her on the back and congratulating her on her narrow escape from the harrowing jaws of death. 

The sensation was a little disorientating and a lot uncomfortable, and Kuina was immensely glad when de Gris ordered her crew back to their stations before ignoring Kuina for the rest of their trek across the ship. 

“Take a seat,” de Gris said, bolting the door to her quarters shut behind her. It was a room not unlike Jack O’Neil’s, a deeply impersonal space with maps on the walls and bookshelves full to bursting crammed in the corners, and the similarity did little to put Kuina any more at ease. 

“So what did you want—” Kuina’s voice trailed off as de Gris put a finger to her lips. Rummaging behind her desk, she found a piece of old sackcloth and threw it over the den den mushi sleeping soundly at her desk before stuffing it in a drawer. A shadow passed over the porthole that looked out to the open deck, the familiar silhouette of Lyudmilla’s head darkening the glass. 

“All right, now we can talk,” de Gris said, settling comfortably into her seat, an overstuffed wingback chair with faded upholstery and heavy, dark wood.

“What was that all about?” Kuina said. 

“Can never be sure who’s listening these days.” De Gris cupped a hand over her face as she lit a cigarette. She drew deeply from it, exhaling a stream of acrid blue smoke. The room was permeated with the stench of it and de Gris kept two ashtrays on her desk, both overflowing. It was the only sign of untidiness that Kuina could see.

“You didn’t find the traitor,” Kuina said. Unease twisted in her belly. “You think it’s someone on this ship?”

“Could be,” de Gris said with eerie calmness. “Or it could have been one of Betty’s, or maybe even both. It’s impossible to tell.”

“They’re  _ your _ people,” Kuina countered. “Shouldn’t you know?”

De Gris laughed, and tapped a bit of ash off of the end of her cigarette, only for it to topple from the overfull tray onto her desk. “You’d think that, but that’s not how the game works, and it’s not what I brought you in to talk about.” She swept away the ash and pushed forward a stack of crinkled parchment held flat by a glass paperweight. The writing was obscured by a dark, reddish brown stain, but Kuina recognized them instantly as the papers she’d stolen from O’Neil’s office. 

“I want you to walk me through what happened,” de Gris said. “From the beginning.”

Kuina recounted the events of the night as best she could, though there was a part of her that thought her best wasn’t very good. The order of events was jumbled in her mind, some standing out like the bright flash of a spotlight in her memories, others muddled and hazed. De Gris was a patient audience, leaning back in her chair and smoking her cigarette, playing with the glass paperweight while staring out at the mid distance. 

Kuina made it to the moment she was knocked unconscious before grinding to a halt. Saying the words aloud made it hit home. Danny and Azeem were dead, as was the nameless boy. She blinked rapidly, a leaden heaviness settling over her. It was a curious feeling, not quite sadness—she hadn’t known them long enough for that—but something adjacent to it.

She opened her mouth to ask if they had found any bodies before promptly shutting it again. The chances of de Gris happening across their corpses while lugging Kuina back to the  _ Valor _ were infinitesimal, and Kuina had the sinking feeling that the Callihan Trading Company had simply thrown their bodies overboard, leaving them to be swept away with the tide.

There were stories of what happened to the souls of those whose bodies were lost at sea. Kuina wasn’t superstitious enough to believe in them, but as someone who had spent half her life separated from the people and places she loved, the loss of something as tangible as a person’s body to the cold depths of the sea didn’t sit right with her. Logically she  _ knew  _ what had happened. But without that physical proof she didn’t want to believe.

“They were killed because it was too much of an effort to keep them alive,” Kuina said slowly after a too-long silence, the line between her eyebrows deepening. “The ones with bounties were too dangerous, and the boy was too young.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand, where was the CTC taking those people? What’s Tequila Wolf?”

“Labor camp, out East somewhere,” de Gris said. “The king of Tolouse sent his criminals there for years in exchange for kickbacks from the Government. It’s part of why the Revolution went there in the first place.” She rolled the paperweight over her palms, still deep in thought. “He must have gotten greedy at the end, or done something else to piss the higher ups off bad. Stupid move on his part, but by all acounts he wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer.”

“But he’s dead,” Kuina said. Dead men didn’t order their so-called criminals to labor camps. As quickly as events turned on Tolouse, the Company must have already been there. Watching. Waiting for their chance to strike. 

“And who do you think killed him?” de Gris said. “Because it certainly wasn’t us, even if it was made to look like it. Clever move on the Government’s part, if you ask me, and likely a plan they’d had up their sleeves for a while for it to work so well. They get rid of an obnoxious, troublemaking king while keeping their reputation lily white.”

“But if everyone hated the king anyway, wouldn’t getting rid of him make the Revolution more popular?” Kuina said.

“In the East Blue, maybe, to the few who keep tabs on that sort of thing. But most folk don’t keep track of the political situation on their home islands, let alone those in other seas. And it’s not just regicide; the Revolution got tagged for the fires, too. Burning people alive isn’t a good look, no matter how just the cause.” De Gris’s gaze drifted, as if she were looking at something far away. “The Revolution got outplayed. After all, what’s the sacrifice of one island if making an example of it can keep a hundred others in line?”

Kuina couldn’t argue with that, and all at once her father’s fears seemed a lot more justified. “I’ve lived in the East Blue my whole life and never heard of Tequila Wolf.”

“I’m sure there’s a lot of things you haven’t heard of. Doesn’t mean they’re not out there. You sure you didn’t see the person who knocked you out cold?”

The change of subject caught Kuina by surprise. “No. Everything was happening too fast. I was just trying to get everyone to the boat.”

De Gris grunted and made a gesture for Kuina to continue. She explained how she managed to talk her way out of the brig and repeated her conversation with O’Neil verbatim. De Gris’s faraway expression didn’t change as Kuina told how she’d killed O’Neil and his crew, or after hearing what she’d told the imprisoned Tolouse citizens.

“After that...I don’t know. If someone didn’t help them they’d just get captured again,” Kuina said with a lopsided shrug. “I’m not even sure they made it off Tolouse safely. When I told them to run they just…”

Flashes of their terrified faces burned against the back of Kuina’s eyes. They’d been terrified of  _ her _ . Perhaps more than they’d been of the World Government. She could still hear the drops of blood dripping down between the planks under the bleached light of the moon, the aftermath of her slaughter drowning out the battle raging on the coast. 

De Gris lit another cigarette. “You gave them a chance. You’re not responsible for what they did with it, or for what happens if the World Government catches up with them later. They  _ would _ have died on Tequila Wolf. Odds are the marines find them, assuming they don’t die at sea, but you at least gave them a fighter’s chance. Sometimes that’s all you can ask for.”

She exhaled a steady stream of smoke, before tapping the papers Kuina salvaged from O’Neil’s office. “Besides, you had the presence of mind to know what was really important on that ship, and it wasn’t a bunch of East Blue yokels. Why’d you pick up O’Neil’s logs?”

“I’m a bounty hunter,” Kuina said quietly. “You learn to look for leads when you can, try to anticipate where your enemy might go next.”

This answer seemed to please de Gris. “And you’re certain one of the sailors invoked Gemini by name?”

“That’s what he said.”

De Gris’s lips curled into...well, it wasn’t quite a smile. It was the animated look of a bloodhound who’d finally caught a scent. “So what now? You’re going to go after the CTC? That’s suicide, girl.”

“So’s taking on an entire army. Yet here I am.”

Kuina didn’t flinch as de Gris’s gaze bored into her. To be honest, she wasn’t sure what she’d been thinking. If what de Gris said was even remotely true, the Company was nothing but a middleman doing the Government’s dirty work. Kuina had taken care of the ones who killed Danny and Azeem. Now that the blinding rage had faded, she had to admit that her fight with them was finished. 

“See, that’s what I don’t get,” de Gris said. She set her paperweight aside and leaned in on her elbows, her dark eyes inscrutable. “You don’t give two shits about the Revolution—don’t you dare argue with me, everyone can see it—but you’re willing to get yourself sliced to ribbons to fight a battle that’s got nothing to do with you. Betty says you were going to murder everyone in Canary Cove just to get on a boat, and you’ve been itching for a fight ever since for the chance to jump ship. What do you get out of all this? What is it you  _ want? _ ”

Leave it to a swordsman to cut to the heart of the matter. Kuina looked down at the katana laying neatly over her lap, the tips of her ears going pink. She’d never said it aloud to anyone other than Zoro. There’d been no point. Even if she found someone to take her ambition seriously, she wasn’t going to become the strongest swordsman in the world while stuck in Loguetown. Until Zoro came along it was easier to just hide. 

But Zoro came and Zoro went, leaving Kuina just as alone as she ever was. There was something within her that told Kuina that the battle at Tolouse had been important. That she was stronger now than she had been two days ago. It was something that went beyond cutting iron cannonballs and slaughtering soldiers. There was a fundamental shift within her that left her permanently changed. It seemed foolish to be afraid of what Aria de Gris thought of her after pulling through a near-death experience virtually unscathed. 

Kuina forced the lump in her throat down, managed to lift her head with the pride she hoped to one day be worthy of. “I’m going to be the greatest swordsman in the world. That’s why I’m going to the Grand Line.”

De Gris’s eyebrows rose. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

The clock on the wall seemed to slow, an agonal pause between each little tick. It was funny how Kuina hadn’t heard the seconds before now. In the deafening silence, they were all that seemed to matter.

“Well then,” de Gris said finally. “It seems like we can help one another reach our goals.” 

Her hands returned absentmindedly to the paperweight. Kuina could almost see the pieces falling into place as de Gris’s puzzle resolved itself. “You’re aware of who currently holds that title, are you not?”

“Of course,” Kuina said. “Dracule Mihawk, the man with the hawk’s eyes.”

“One of the Seven Warlords of the Sea,” de Gris added, “and dog of the World Government. They say jump, he’s contractually obligated to say how high.”

“So?” Kuina said, frowning. “I heard the Warlords are just pirates who hand over some of their loot to the Government.”

De Gris wagged a finger at her. “Ninety percent of the time you’d be correct, but every once in a blue moon the World Government gets pissed enough to send their little lap dogs out to show the world who’s boss. And there’s nothing that pisses the Government off like the Revolutionary Army. Stick with Dragon long enough and I guarantee you’ll cross swords with Mihawk one day.”

Kuina sucked in a sharp breath through clenched teeth. Was it really as simple as that? Could the Revolution serve her dream to her on a silver platter? 

Ha. Nothing about the Revolution was ever  _ simple.  _

But still. What de Gris said made sense, and that alone made the offer tempting. She’d stuck her neck out for them once already and had been made a better swordsman for it. There would be no shortage of strong opponents to face when fighting on their side, nor any need to worry how she’d get from island to island. Kuina had always told herself that the only thing in her life that mattered was fulfilling her ambition. If that was really true, what did it matter what the rest of the world thought about her or her alliances? She’d already attacked a marine officer and fought unmasked in a battle against the World Government. There wasn’t any chance of going back to her old life after that. 

Hell, Zoro had gone and made himself a pirate. Surely joining the Revolution wasn’t any worse than  _ that. _

A small voice deep down inside wondered what her father would think. He’d helped the Revolution once, only for it to massively backfire in his face. Now Kuina was considering jumping headfirst in the fight against one of the most dangerous organizations on the planet. 

__ “I...I don’t know. I need to think about it,” Kuina said.

“Well think quickly,” de Gris said, her expression hardening. “I don’t have time for people who can’t make up their minds. Either commit to the cause or I’m kicking you off my ship the next time we hit land.”

Behind de Gris’s irritation, Kuina sensed a flicker of disappointment. Tilting her head, puzzled, she asked, “What’s it matter to you whether I join the Revolution or not? It’s not that you’re dying for my company. I’ve heard enough to know your crew’s plenty strong, unless…” Her eyes widened in understanding. “You’re worried about the traitor. It was a complete fluke that Dragon picked me up in the first place, and it would have been impossible for me to plant those snails or leak your plans. You want someone around you know you can trust.”

De Gris took her time finishing her cigarette before leaning back in her chair, hands cradled behind her head. The scar on her cheek crinkled as she looked at Kuina through hooded eyes. 

“I want you because you’re good at killing people.”

The seconds ticked even slower than before. Planks creaked with the sway of the sea. Through the haze of smoke two women stared at one another, neither one willing to look away first.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re an asshole?” Kuina asked. 

“I’m not going to drip-feed you a load of sycophantic bullshit just because it makes you feel better about yourself,” de Gris retorted. “The Revolution isn’t salivating over your superior seamanship or genius tactical ability. You set out to sea to kill people, and I’ve got people that need killing. It’s as simple as that.” 

Kuina’s grip around her sword tightened in white-knuckled frustration. “You know, I felt something when you found me on Tolouse. I don’t know how to describe it. A presence, maybe, or some kind of power. Whatever it was, out of everyone on this ship, I thought you might be the one to understand.”

De Gris lit another cigarette, unimpressed. “That’s called blood loss, sweetheart.”

“No,” Kuina said, becoming more convinced even as she said the word. “I’ve been closer to death than that before. It’s funny, I don’t get that feeling from you now at all. Two nights ago you were a true swordsman. Right now, you’re just another person. Regular. _Ordinary._ ”

Kuina rose to her feet, letting de Gris’s surprised, almost angry expression wash over her like water on the surface of a stone.

“I wonder why that is,” she said, almost to herself before leaving the office without giving de Gris an answer to the question she so desperately sought. 

* * *

Clara was still in the infirmary when Kuina returned. Her bed had been made and a set of clothes set out for her to wear. The shirt she didn’t recognize, but the pants at least were hers, a pair of jeans dark enough that stains didn’t easily show. There was a hole near one of the knees Kuina didn’t remember being there before, in the approximate shape of one of the bullets still sitting in a little jar at Clara’s desk. 

Her backpack was there, too, with more patches than original material left. Inside, miraculously undamaged, was the red and blue oni mask. Kuina’s lips lifted in a crooked line at the sight of it.  _ Of all the things to survive the night… _

After exchanging pleasantries, Kuina pulled a privacy curtain and got changed, finally letting her sword hang at its rightful place. She emerged feeling like a new woman, and couldn’t help but smile at the doctor’s appraising look.

“I told you I was fine,” she said. 

Clara chuckled. “I suppose I could release you so long as you swear not to overexert yourself. Although I doubt if that’s a term on whose definition we would agree.”

“Probably not.” Kuina sat at the edge of the bed and went through the rest of her pack just to see what she had left. It was a task that didn’t take long, and the results were depressing. With a sigh, Kuina set it aside, then paused. She could still feel the eyes of the doctor on her. 

“I don’t want to seem ungrateful,” Kuina said. 

“I assure you, I thought nothing of the sort,” Clara said. “You’re hardly the only patient I’ve had that would rather not spend their days in bed.”

“What brought you to the Revolution anyway?” Kuina asked. “With a power like that, you could work anywhere.”

There was a delicate pause. “That’s a rather personal question,” Clara said tactfully. Her normal smile faded, leaving looking more wan and tired than ever. “And one you should be careful about asking, on this ship especially.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend,” Kuina said. “Forget I even asked, it’s none of my business.”

“No, you’re fine. I don’t mind sharing. Just...be careful. That’s not the case for everyone.” She sighed. 

“I’ll be truthful, I don’t really care about who rules the world or whatever other nonsense that gets fought about. Never felt any desire towards fame, either, or to chase after money. But you’re right, with my ability I never hurt for work. I didn’t realize until I joined the Revolution what a blessing that was. All I ever wanted was to help people, and given the nature of my Devil Fruit I got it in my head that I’d do the most good to the most people by going to where the fighting was at. Back when I worked at a hospital, I convinced a team of us to travel to a neighboring island and bring relief and supplies to the marine doctors there. That’s when I first got on the World Government’s radar, and after getting back home I started getting letters.”

“They wanted you to join the marines?” Kuina laughed. She tried to picture Clara in a marine uniform, and found she didn’t have the imagination.

Clara’s expression darkened. “No. If they had, I would have been forced to consider it. Some of the bigwigs within the military’s Science Unit wanted my ability to accelerate their research.”

“What for?”

“That’s just it, I don’t know. Heck, I don’t know what the Science Unit  _ is. _ I think they develop weapons for the marines, but even when they were trying to recruit me it was all kept very hush-hush.” Clara swept a strand of coppery hair out of her face. “To be honest, all the secrecy had me spooked. I’m a doctor. My job is to heal, not help find new ways for people to kill one another. So I told them, thank you for your consideration, but no. I’m not interested at this time.”

Remembering what happened to her father after refusing to train marine recruits in swordplay, Kuina said, “I doubt that went over well.”

“No,” Clara said flatly. “What started as requests turned to threats. I found myself suddenly let go from my position, nevermind the fact I was the best surgeon that hospital ever had. I was being pressured on all sides to take a job I didn’t want, and knew if I continued to refuse things would turn ugly faster than you can say Jack Robinson. After all, the Government knew who I was. There was no way for me to disappear and start over again someplace new.

“If you pardon the expression, I more or less fell ass-backwards into this whole Revolutionary business. I was scared, and they offered me a place I could stay beyond the reach of the Government and whatever mess they’re brewing in their labs.” Clara looked down at Kuina fondly. “And I got a chance to do what I wanted all along. Traveling with Aria has been the hardest and best thing I’ve ever done. I don’t regret making that choice, even if I had to give up what I had in order to do it.”

Kuina nodded thoughtfully. That was what Danny said, too, that the Revolution let its members enjoy a certain amount of individual freedom. Kuina didn’t know what sort of weapons the Government could develop through a power like Clara’s, but she suspected that the Revolution would be just as interested in them as the marines. But they let her just be a doctor, just like they would have let Danny focus on only building ships had she lived long enough to do so. 

And if Kuina wanted to fight, they’d let her do that, too. It might be under a commander she didn’t like, but they didn’t care if she was a girl, or if a week ago she’d been hunting bounties for the World Government. As long as she was good at fighting, that was all that mattered. 

Something else jiggled in her memory banks. Something Danny had said before being killed. De Gris never kept the same crew around for long. Kuina wouldn’t  _ have  _ to fight for someone who thought of her merely as a tool for killing.

Suddenly Clara spun around in her chair, leaning backward to pull out a drawer of her desk. She fumbled for a moment before finding a small mason jar, holding it out to Kuina for her inspection. 

“Would you like some cake?” Clara asked. “Because you look like you could use some cheering up, and I find it impossible to be morose while eating cake. My husband sent it to me, bless his heart, and it is delightful.”

“You’re  _ married? _ ”

“To the best baker to walk God’s green earth. Now here, I insist.”

It was impossible to refuse Clara’s offer, and before she knew it Kuina was sitting next to her with a mason jar’s worth of cake in one hand and a small metal spoon in the other. 

“The secret is to seal it like you would when canning vegetables,” Clara explained as she opened her own jar. “That way it stays fresh, even if it has to cross half the world before being eaten. Now what were we talking about?”

“I honestly have no idea.”

Clara acted as if she hadn’t spoken. “Aria asked you to join the Revolution, didn’t she? I wish she wouldn’t, but it’s not my place to say so.”

Kuina saved herself from having to answer by taking a bite of cake. After the flavorless mush that was her breakfast, the bright, sweet taste caught her by surprise. 

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Clara said encouragingly. “My advice is to take your time deciding. I’ve not seen any bounty on your head yet, and until the Government figures out who you are, you don’t have to commit to anything. Once you go down that road, there’s no going back.”

“I attacked a marine officer before I ever met Dragon,” Kuina said. “I’m pretty sure the Government knows who I am.”

Another pause. Another bite of cake. Clara looked at her steadily, and leveled her spoon in the direction of Kuina’s face. “Honey, if that’s the case, you might very well be better off with the Revolution, but that doesn’t mean you’re obligated to fight. There are places you could go. Places where you’d be safe.”

“I don’t want to be  _ safe, _ ” Kuina said, surprising herself with the truthfulness of the words. After all, isn’t that what she’d done since she was eleven years old? Sacrificed everything for the vague promise of security? __

There was nothing in those years at Loguetown that matched the sheer vivacity of facing down the Tolouse army. It was like lightning struck in her soul, reviving a part of her that had been lying dormant. Everything that came before was dull and lifeless in comparison, and Kuina thought she’d rather die than go back to that faded, meaningless half-existence.

The most direct path between two points was always a straight line. Of the options in front of her, only one led directly to where Kuina wanted to go.

She finished her snack in silence before clambering to her feet. “Thank you, Doctor. You’ve been very helpful.”

“Please, call me Clara.” She smiled up at Kuina, but there was resigned sadness in her eyes, a tear swallowed in an ocean of blue.

Kuina forced that image away as she hurried out of the infirmary. She managed to dodge past de Gris’s crew, making it back to the captain’s quarters without being interrupted. Kuina barged through the door without knocking, catching de Gris standing over a sea chart while in deep conversation with Lyudmila.

If looks could kill, Kuina would have been dead right then and there. But instead of throwing her overboard like she so clearly wanted to, de Gris twisted a knuckled fist over her desk. “This had better be good.”

“I’m in,” Kuina said. “Whatever it is you’re doing here, I want a part.”

De Gris and Lyudmila shared a look. 

“Told you,” the captain said smugly.  _ Kuina’s  _ new captain. Turning back to her, de Gris said, “I’ll discuss our terms of agreement later, make things all official-like.”

“You know what I want,” Kuina said. “I don’t care about the rest.”

“Well I do. Now _get_.”

Kuina left, walking out onto the decks of the  _ Valor  _ in a stuporous daze as she slowly came to terms with her decision. Clear blue seas stretched out as far as the eye could see, the sun reflecting tantalizingly with the promise of  _ more  _ just beyond the horizon. She leaned out against the railing and laughed. Just days ago she hated the Revolution and all it stood for, and now she was its newest member. 

Somewhere on another, more distant sea, she got the feeling Zoro was laughing, too.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cake in a jar is an actual thing that you can make and is a good idea if you ever feel the desire to ship baked goods over long distances. My family would send some my brother when he was overseas on deployment, and it was apparently tasty enough for one of his superior officers to propose to my mother over skype. To this day we’re not entirely sure if he was joking or not.


End file.
